


Run Home

by quiteanerdling



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bars and Pubs, Biting, Blow Jobs, Commitment Phobia, Cunnilingus, Emotional Constipation, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Found Family, Hair-pulling, Kids fighting, Krem POV, Multi, Sex Before Feels, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, an amazing number of inappropriate baseball puns, baby krem, background Cullrian, fuck buddies, fucked up childhoods, little league, mean girls references abound, single dad Bull
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiteanerdling/pseuds/quiteanerdling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dust Lavellan is pretty happy with her life - she tends bar at The Siren's Call, sleeps with whoever she wants, and isn't responsible for anyone's life but her own. At least, until some random kid stumbles out in front of her motorcycle one afternoon. A kid with a REALLY hot dad...</p><p>The Iron Bull never expected to be a dad, let alone a single dad with an adopted 'Vint kid, but it's pretty much the best thing that's ever happened to him. Sure his sex life is a little limited, what with raising a kid, coaching a Little League team, and working full time. Until he comes home and finds a really hot elf eating cookies on the porch with his kid...</p><p>Eleven year old Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi wants two things - his Little League team to go to the World Series, and to grow up to be a chef. Okay, three things: he'd really like his dad to be SLIGHTLY less of a huge dork around his new friend Dust. Why are grown ups so lame? Can't they just kiss and get it over with already?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Opening Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem meets pavement, Dust meets Krem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, FYI, this fic is going to be pretty self indulgent and ridiculous, but is also kind of fueled by spite at the Dragon Age fandom. Please expect some skewering of common tropes that piss me off. Also, this will veer between wildly fluffy YA rated cuteness to explicit kinky sex. You've been warned.

When the boy stumbles out in front of her bike, Dust is endlessly grateful that she’s tooling along a little _under_ the speed limit for a change. She likes cutting through residential neighborhoods sometimes - there’s an area near her apartment that’s firmly lower middle class, and she likes it a lot. Even though she can’t afford to live there, she admires the small gardens, the neat houses, and the variety of cars; older models that are well cared for, with an occasional classic car someone is lovingly restoring. One house in particular is her favorite - it’s a soft sky blue with pink trim, which ought to make it utterly ridiculous but somehow just works. The front lawn is small, but the area in front of the porch is a veritable riot of colorful flowers. Rose bushes border each side of the lawn in every shade imaginable.

She’s just one block past the The Cottage, as she thinks of it, when a kid stumbles into the street and falls over right in front of her fucking bike. She brakes, swerves, and nearly puts her bike down but manages to stop and avoid hitting the kid or any parked cars. Adrenaline pumps so hard through her system that her _skin_ hurts, her pulse beating wildly in what feels like every inch of her body. Once she’s fully stopped she turns to glare at the kid -first she’s going to get him out of the street, yell at him, then find his parent and yell even louder at them.

“Are you out of your fucking mind kid?” She knows she probably shouldn’t be swearing and shouting, but Mythal’s _tits_ it was terrifying. Turning off her bike, she shoves the kickstand down with intent before dismounting, boots crunching on the pavement. Pulling her helmet off, she holds it under her arm, mostly to give herself something to hold on to in order to hide her shaking hands.

“I’m sorry!” The kid sounds miserable, and details begin sinking in past the barrier of fear, anger, and adrenaline. _Oh shit._ He has the makings of one void of a shiner, a split lip, a bloody nose, and seems to be struggling to stand up. Now that the sound of her own blood isn’t rushing like thunder in her own ears, she can hear footsteps taking off at speed. When she turns in the direction of the noise, it’s just in time to see a group of kids turning around a street corner. The temptation to go after them and put the fear of Elgar'nan into them is strong, but vengeance must come _after_ mercy.

“Hey.” Dust walks toward the boy slowly, dropping her voice to something a lot less angry and intimidating, squatting down a couple feet away when he doesn’t bolt. She’s total shit with figuring out children's’ ages, especially if they aren’t elves, but she thinks this one is maybe nine or ten. His skin is darker than most Fereldans, and his brown eyes have the caution of a kid who’s seen shit and knows that adults are sometimes a lot more hurtful than helpful. It’s like a fist in the gut to think she might have contributed to that look. “Hey I’m sorry I yelled, I was just really scared. Let’s get you up and out of the road. Is it ok if I touch you to help you up?”

He considers her for a minute, and she keeps her gloved hands planted firmly on her knees, waiting for permission. Then he nods and holds out a hand. She takes it with one of her own, standing up slowly and supporting as much of his weight as he needs. Since he’s wearing shorts, she can see that both his knees are bloody and the right one is kind of swollen. Vengeance is sounding better and better, but she shoves down the anger, knowing it won’t help. Other than the effects of getting beaten up, he looks like a pretty healthy kid, sturdy and well fed, and his clothes are good quality, even if there’s blood and dirt on them.

“Look, I know your parents have probably told you not to talk to strangers, but I really want to make sure you get home safe, and I have a first aid kit in my bike. I’d like to patch you up a bit so they don’t freak out when they see you.”

“Pop won’t freak out. It’s ok.” He fists at his nose, trying to wipe away some stray blood, and she itches to grab his hand and pull it away before he makes things worse. Instead she gives him a long, speculative look, because that kind of statement could mean a lot of things, from “I’m lying through my teeth and I am in deep shit” to “my parents just don’t give a fuck” and a lot of ground in between.

“I’ll take your word for that, but how about you do me a favor and let me do my good deed for the year, ok? Get back on the sidewalk and I’ll park my bike.” Dust jerks her chin in the direction of the walkway and waits to see which way the kid jumps. He’s got one hell of a good poker face, especially for a kid. She wants to ask if his “pop” helped him develop that face, but it’s not the kind of question a kid that cagey is gonna answer - that she knows based on personal experience. Finally he gives a little nod and limps over to the sidewalk.

With a sigh of relief she finds a free section of curb to park her bike, grateful that it’s not rush hour, and most of the day walkers are still at work. Flipping open one of her saddlebags, she digs out her first aid kit, stowing her gloves in its place. The kid is waiting for her on the sidewalk, and his left eye is beginning to swell shut.

“My name’s Dust Lavellan. You can tell me yours, or I can keep calling you kid, either one works for me.” 

“Cremisius Aclassi. You can call me Krem.” There’s an obvious “adults are so lame” eyeroll in the statement, even without the _actual_ eyeroll, which makes her smile. She’s a little surprised by the lack of commentary about her name, but then he seems pretty polite as a general rule. Setting her helmet down on the sidewalk, she opens her first aid kid to see what all she’s got. She snitches stuff from the big first aid kit at work, which makes Hawke grumble, but not too loudly. There’s a good supply of cleaning wipes, so she pulls a couple out ripping one open and beginning to very carefully clean the blood off of Krem’s chin and out from under under his nose. He looks like something out of a bad horror movie, but it seems like his nose has stopped bleeding at least. It also doesn’t look broken, which is a big plus.

After she’s got him looking a little more presentable, she pokes around in the kit until she finds a small, disposable ice pack. She gives it a quick snap to activate it and then hands it to Krem, who actually looks a little impressed. While he holds it gingerly in place over his eye, she gets out a cotton swab and a packet of antibiotic ointment, which she dabs on his lower lip. He definitely still looks like he’s been in a fight, but now it looks more like a scuffle than a massacre.

“Okay, Krem, let’s find somewhere to sit down, because your knees look pretty damn gross and I want get them cleaned up as quick as we can. Picking out rocks and crap is going to be a lot less pleasant as they start to scab.” Krem makes a face, winces when it hurts, but nods none the less.

“Um… I live nearby, we could go to my house.” He offers the suggestion like he’s not sure it’s the right thing to say, and honestly she’s not so sure either.

“This pop of yours gonna be there?” Dust’s not exactly sure how to deal with parents in this situation. Her own mother used to laugh and ask if the other children looked as bad, but her foster parents all universally got pissed and punished her for fighting, as if getting hit in the face wasn’t punishment enough. She doesn’t want to get Krem in trouble, but she also doesn’t want to be a creepy adult going to some strange kid’s home while his parents aren’t there. Fuck, children complicate _everything_.

“Probably not, he comes home at different times.” The kids a decent liar, but not that good. Cautious - she suspects his dad probably gets home at nearly the same time every day, but Krem is smart enough to make her wonder about it. She thinks she might like him, in spite of herself.

“Well lemme grab this sh- er, stuff, and then we can head there. You sure you’re ok to walk?”

“I’m fine. And you can swear around me, I won't copy you. I know I'm not old enough to do it yet.” It’s a little hard to tell with half his face swollen, but he looks rather smug.

“So exactly how old do you have to be before you can swear?” She gathers up the bloody wipes and shoves them in one of the empty sandwich bags she keeps in the kit. It might be an old superstition, but aside from littering being gross, she’s not about to leave some innocent kid’s blood out in an easy to find location. 

“Sixteen.” His tone is reverent, as if it’s both an incredible milestone, and a million years away. “Five more years and pop says I’m allowed, as long as it’s not at school or in front of important authority figures.”

She bursts out laughing, caught by surprise. 

“Your pop sounds like an interesting guy. Now hold this and lead the way Ser Krem.” With a small shrug he takes the first aid kit from her, then turns and heads back the direction she had come from. He’s limping a bit, but it doesn’t seem to be slowing him down too much. She walks next to, but a little behind him so she can keep an eye out and steady him if need be, helmet tucked back under her arm. They’re approaching The Cottage, when Krem slows, and then turns up the walk.

“You’re shitting me, this is _your_ house?” She can’t keep the laughter out of her voice, because it’s so fucking cliche, like a meet cute in a movie. Now they’ll form a charming friendship and he’ll teach her valuable lessons about life and she’ll start wearing pink lipstick and sundresses. She snorts at the whole idea of it.

“Yeah, so?” Krem sounds defensive, and he’s removed the ice pack so he can glare suspiciously at her, obviously waiting for ridicule. He looks ready to go another round in defense of his pretty house, and she grins.

“No, sorry, it’s just funny because I love this house. I cut through this neighborhood just to look at your roses.” Dust points to her favorite, overflowing with golden blossoms that blush red at the edges of their petals. “That one is my favorite.”

Krem is looking at her like she’s grown a second head, but then he gives a small, pained smile.

“They’re called Tevinter Gold. Pop says it’s supposed to be poetic, but I think it’s kind of dumb. ‘Vint’s use credit cards like everyone else.”

She thinks it’s a bit more macabre than dumb, but she’s not about to talk about slavery, blood magic, and religious warfare with a kid who just got beat up.

“Poetry and roses aside, I see a really nice looking bench swing up there, so why don’t you sit on that, and we’ll see if your knees can be salvaged.” The porch is actually pretty large up close, and the bench swing looks _really_ sturdy. The cushion on the bench is a soft yellow, covered in pink roses, and the wood of the bench has been painted dark green, with golden leaves. It’s all just really damn cute, and she’s having a hard time not freaking out over how adorable it is. Krem takes a seat gingerly and hands her the first aid kit. In return she holds out her helmet to him.

“Can you hold onto that for me? Be careful, it was expensive.” He nods, a little wide eyed, and she’s glad the distraction works. It _was_ actually pretty damn expensive, but that’s what happens when everything is made for humans by default, and you have to search extra hard for one that won’t squish your damn ear tips.

Kneeling on the porch, she’s glad she’s wearing her leathers, since they give a little bit of padding. Opening the first aid kid again, she digs out more cleaning wipes, a tiny bottle of antiseptic spray, and a pair of miniature tweezers as well as gauze squares and a couple big ass bandaids, setting them all up on the seat in a neat row. She’s definitely going to have to do some serious restocking after this, maybe even pay for some of it, but she’s grateful that paranoia has provided everything she needs for once.

Luckily the long summer afternoon leaves her with plenty of light to see by. The kid’s knees are a hot mess, bloody, and with little rocks and other debris embedded in the torn skin. He was on his knees for a while by the look of it. The right one is definitely swollen in a way that indicates he might have hurt more than the skin. Once she gets the dirt and crap out, she plans to send him inside to put a real ice pack together.

“So, this is gonna hurt like the Void, not much I can do about it. You wanna talk to distract yourself or something?” When she looks up, Krem is clutching her helmet for dear life.

“Just… go ahead.”

“Sure.” She starts by wiping away the excess blood and dirt, as gently as she can, starting with the worst places so he doesn’t have time to build up anticipation. He hisses, and she knows this isn’t even the worst of it, but he’s pretty stoic. 

“Alright, this’ll be easier if I can touch your leg and move it around a little, is that ok with you? Only on your calf.” She points to where she thinks is the best spot to grab him, and he gives another curt nod. Trying to be firm but gentle, she holds him in place and starts in with the tweezers, picking out debris as efficiently as she can. There’s a couple gasps, and a whimper or two, but other than that, Krem is a brick. She gives his left leg an approving pat, letting him catch his breath before she moves on to the right one.

“You aren’t like most grown ups.” Krem says. His voice is a little shaky, and his eyes are looking suspiciously wet, but other than that he seems to be doing ok, considering the circumstances. 

“I get that a lot, usually from other grown ups.” She grins at him and is rewarded with a little smile in return. 

“You ask permission.” He explains. “ And you haven’t made me tell you what happened.”

She reaches for his other leg as she contemplates his statement. The first one is a little gut churning, because again, it could have a lot of meanings.

“Well, first of all, you should always get to decide who touches you. Grown ups forget that about kids sometimes. It pissed me off when I was a kid, so I try not to do it now. Not like I hang around a lot of kids mind you, so you should feel very honored by my presence.” Krem gives a snort that says exactly what he thinks of that, and she chuckles but doesn’t look at him. Some of the skin is already trying to scab over the little rocks in his knee, and she doesn’t want to make things worse getting them out. He jerks when she goes for a particularly deep one, but she holds his leg firmly in place. Two more nasty ones, and then the only ones left are no worse than the first knee.

“Alright, those were the worst ones, only a few more left. Then I’m gonna hit you up with the antiseptic spray, which is _also_ going to hurt like shit, but at least it won’t be me poking you anymore.”

“This sucks.” Is all the answer Krem gives.

“Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry. Anyway, as for asking you what happened? There was a fight, you were outnumbered, and then you almost got a face full of tire. Not really my business except it was my tire, and that pisses me off, so I’m playing nurse.” She pulls out the last two little pieces of debris she can see, and drops them onto the used cleaning wipes with the others. Picking up the spray, she looks at Krem, quirking her eyebrow in question. He takes a deep breath and gives a firm nod, so she starts spraying. 

He lets out a little yelp at the first spray, but then clenches his jaw and leans his head against the smooth surface of her helmet and goes silent. She then dabs away the excess moisture with the gauze pads, before slapping a bandaid on each knee. When she’s all finished, she gives him one last pat on the leg and starts to put stuff away. A quick hit to the tweezers with the antiseptic spray works as a stop gap until she can really clean them later. The extra wipes and other crap go into her impromptu trash bag. 

“All right, you head inside and get washed up, and out of those gross clothes. You got stuff to make an ice pack for your right knee?”

“Yeah, we’ve got plenty of stuff.” Apparently the look on her face must show some of her concern, because he shrugs. “I play sports, I go through a lot of ice packs.”

“Got it.” She responds. The house _looks_ nice, and Krem looks well cared for, but looks can be deceiving. Still, none of her business, right?

“Umm… do you want to come inside?” He looks and sounds hesitant, and she’s glad, because he should.

“Nope, I’m not about to go in some strange kid’s house. You could be an axe murderer!” It gets her a laugh, which ends in a grunt when his lip pulls. She holds up the bag of trash. “How about you take this in and throw it away for me?”

Krem makes to offer her her helmet, but she shakes her head and tilts her chin toward the seat beside him on the bench. 

“Just leave it there, my hands are gross. You got a hose or a faucet around here I can rinse them?”

“Sure, around the corner on the driveway side.” He takes the bag and hesitates again. “You can wash them inside if you want.”

“Nah, sorry Krem, but I’m _really_ not comfortable going into your house without your parents home. Pretty sure that’s definitely one of those grown up rules I’m not allowed to break. I don’t need your pop getting pissed when he finds me sitting on your couch.” He looks like he wants to protest, but thinks better of it and heads to the door, fishing out some keys from his pocket. He looks back over his shoulder at her as if he isn’t sure what exactly to do with the stray elf standing on his porch. Dust can’t exactly blame him.

“I’ll go rinse my hands and come back here. Come on out when you’re done getting cleaned up, and maybe bring me some paper towels. Leather is not good for drying your hands.” He heads inside with a quick nod, and she wanders down off the porch to circle the rose bushes. On the wall of the house is a faucet, and a very neatly stowed hose on one of those… hose holder things, that probably has a fancy name she doesn’t know. Angling carefully so she doesn’t get water all over her boots and pants, she carefully rinses her hands of blood and dirt, trying to make sure to get under her nails as well. 

When she’s done she shakes out her hands and holds them away from her body. She probably looks like a total idiot walking like this, as if she’s trying to fly, but she wasn’t joking when she mentioned the leather. Walking back up toward the porch, she pauses for a minute to admire the colorful flowers up against the railing. Up close she notices a little figurine of a nug hidden in the flower bed, and then another of a dragon, and she smiles. She fucking loves this house - and she can admit, she’s getting pretty curious about “pop.” Also if there’s a mom, or maybe another dad to go with him. Because a man who deliberately lives in a house like this is bound to be at least a _little_ interesting.

Dust’s still smiling like a nerd when Krem comes limping out of the house very carefully balancing a tray, with his knee wrapped in bandages, and another set of bandages across his head. From the bulk of them, each set of bandages is holding an ice pack in place. He looks like a damned mummy, and she’s both slightly horrified and highly amused. She hops up the stairs and takes the tray from him before his lack of depth perception gets him in trouble.

“Krem, I said clean up, not mummify yourself!” She glances down at the tray and realizes it’s holding some paper towels, a plate of cookies, and what looks like glasses of iced tea. It’s so fucking cute she can’t help but grin, just like with the garden statues. 

“It helps them stay on so I can do stuff. I messed up my other knee last year stealing second, so I rigged this up so I could have my hands free. It’s kind of weird for the eye though. Now I know how pirates feel.” She shakes her head. The kid is smart and funny, and obviously raised by someone pretty serious about manners. 

Krem gestures to the bench, then shuffles over and moves her helmet to another well cushioned chair, setting it down very carefully, then doing the same with the first aid kit. He pulls a little wicker table in front of the bench and then stands up, grinning. She can’t help but grin back as she sets the tray down. While drying her hands, she watches out of the corner of her eye to make sure Krem gets settled on the bench ok, then sits beside him. Once he’s in place she joins him, careful of jostling the swing too hard, then hands him one of the glasses before taking one herself. She’s eyeing the cookies with interest, they smell really good.

“Aren’t I supposed to remind you not to ruin your appetite?” She asked, giving him a stern side eye. He gives her a smile that’s quite rakish, what with the improvised eyepatch.

“I’m eleven, pop says you can’t ruin a black hole.” Now that he’s cleaned up, Krem is a handsome kid, all bright brown eyes and a jaw that’s probably going to give people heart palpitations when he gets older. She _also_ suspects he can be a clever little shit when he wants, from that sly smile he’s still wearing. Shaking her head, she takes a cookie, unable to resist.

“Your funeral.” Dust takes a cautious bite, only to discover that the cookies are fucking _orgasmic_. Definitely not an appropriate thought to have around an eleven year old, but she can’t help it. “Holy shit this cookie is amazing kid, where’d you get them?”

“I helped pop make them. We make cookies every time the Chargers win, and we won 5 to 2 this weekend.”

“I have no idea what that means, but I hope the Chargers win everything from now on. Also, gotta tell you kid, I really kinda want to meet your dad.”

“He’s kind of a dork.” Krem says, but he’s smiling around the cookie he’s about to shove in his mouth.

“You’re his kid, pretty sure you’re required to think he’s a dork.” Or an asshole. But at least she has the sense not to say that part out loud. “So anyway, since I’m eating their cookies, tell me about these Chargers of yours.”


	2. First at Bat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull comes home, Krem is adorable, and blatant flirting is engaged in by consenting adults.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a truly ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out roughly how much bull would weigh based on his estimated height from his [1/4 scale figurine](http://www.gamingheads.com/dragon-age-inquisition-iron-bull-exclusive.html). I have never spent so much time looking up stats on NBA players, lemme tell you. TBH, based on his musculature and likely bone density, I might actually be underestimating, but whatevs. For my non US readers, 7'5" is 228.6 cm.
> 
> Also, the author is ambivalent toward Hawaiian style pizza, but Krem has strong feelings about fruit on Pizza.
> 
> Oh and shout out to my friend [empress-emesh](http://empress-emesh.tumblr.com) for that iPhone joke. I nearly hurt myself laughing.

It’s not unusual for Bull to come home and find Krem sitting on the porch with someone, just hanging out and chatting. The Chargers all have open invites to come over as long as their parents are okay with Bull not being home, and as long as they don’t eat Bull’s personal snacks. He keeps a set for the kids that ride the line between things they’ll eat, and things they’ll eat too much of. Still, it _is_ unusual to see Krem sitting on the porch with a strange adult in enough black leather to be in a Tevinter bondage porn. Bull is fairly relaxed about child rearing, but even he’s got his limits.

Instead of pulling to the end of the driveway and going in the back door like usual, he parks in the front of the house and heads up the front walk to the porch. Bondage porn adult coalesces into a hot female elf in motorcycle gear, who watches him approach like she’s prepping for an attack, and figuring out all the fight or flight options.

Krem, meanwhile, is covered in fucking bandages, has a split lip and torn up knuckles. The kid’s been in enough fights that Bull is able to keep his emotions from getting the better of him, but it doesn’t mean he wants to rip someone’s head off any less. Krem’s a scrappy little dude who hates to see others get hurt or bullied, so unfortunately they’ve dealt with their fair share of black eyes and bruises by now. What in the void Hot Leather Elf has to do with it is a mystery, but the way she’s shifted her body next to Krem screams protectiveness in a way Bull files away for later.

He stops at the porch steps, one foot on a stair, trying to look relaxed with his duffle bag over his shoulder. Krem is so busy going on about one of the Chargers’ latest victories that he hasn’t even spared a glance for Bull yet.

“So, Krem-puff, there a reason you look like something out of a Nevarran crypt? And that you’re eating cookies before dinner? Also you wanna stop bragging long enough to introduce me to your new friend?”

Krem puts on a sheepish, slightly pitiful face, designed to garner the most sympathy possible, and while it totally works, Bull isn’t going to admit it just yet. He really wants to give his little dude a hug and then sit him on the couch with a blanket and his favorite food, but Krem is super touchy about being coddled, so Bull just raises an eyebrow and gives him an inquiring look.

“I knew you were full of it about the cookies, kid.” Hot Leather Elf mutters in an aside to Krem before standing up and walking over to Bull. She’s wearing traditional vallaslin as white as her hair, and her blue eyes are nearly as pale, all of it in startling contrast to her warm brown skin. The way she fills out her leathers is decidedly enjoyable, and while Bull keeps his admiring glance short and polite, her quirked eyebrow says she doesn’t miss it. He shrugs and smiles at her, holding out his free hand.

“I’m The Iron Bull, this little trouble maker’s dad. You can call me Bull.” He doesn’t push for an explanation of the bandages, assuming one of them will get to it soon enough. She takes his hand and gives it a firm shake, despite the fact his nearly engulfs hers.

“Dust Lavellan, nice to meet you, though the circumstances are kind of crap.” She’s almost eye level with him where she stands on the porch, and while she definitely sizes him up, she doesn’t seem intimidated, which is nice. “Krem had a bit of a meeting of the minds with some pavement I was about to drive over. I happen to have a first aid kit in my bike, so I gave him a patch job and he paid me back in illicit cookies.”

Her smile is crooked, full lips covered in lipstick like dark berries, and he’s gotta admit, there are other places he’d really enjoy seeing that lipstick on his own body. Now is _definitely_ not the time though, so he shoves that idea to a back burner. He turns to Krem instead, tilting his horns and waiting with raised eyebrows. He knows the signs of a fight, and while he appreciates Dust trying to protect him from possible parental wrath, he and Krem have a strict honesty policy.

“It was Max and his jerk friends. They were mad because we beat them so bad a couple weeks ago. I’d have been fine but there were three of them.” Krem shrugs in a way that Bull knows means “this is only part of the story, but I’m not ready to tell the whole thing.” Bull nods, because he doesn’t blame Krem in the least for not going into details in front of a stranger. Krem’s got a temper, and can be a bit of a cocky shit, but he’s a good kid and doesn’t go looking for violence.

Bull has been learning to navigate between the fights he can classify as general kid bullshit, and the fights he needs to worry about because they’re gonna come back and bite Krem in the ass mentally and emotionally after they’re over. Max Trevelyan is a little asshole, but no worse than most kids with money and disinterested parents. He’s not _deliberately_ cruel, but he and Krem have one hell of a mini rivalry going, and Bull’s thinking it might be time for some intervention.

“Hmm… those ice packs?” He points to Krem’s knee and face, and the kid nods. They both know the discussion isn’t over, but it’ll be tabled until Krem’s had a good night sleep and some child rated pain killers. In the meantime there’s a sexy do gooder on Bull’s porch who looks like she’s trying to decide how quickly she can politely make her exit. He turns back to her with a grateful smile, and he sees her shoulders loosen a bit.

“Thanks for patching up Junior Fight Club for me. I suppose since actual bleeding was involved, I can let the cookies go this one time. Hopefully you didn’t both ruin your appetites.” He gives her an overblown wink, and she chokes on laugh, obviously wanting to be polite. When he gives a chuckle of his own, she relaxes again.

“Krem informs me that you claim eleven year olds have appetites like black holes, so they can’t be ruined.”

“Krem-de-la-creme, why do you use my words against me? That’s just hurtful!” Krem laughs and starts carefully cleaning up the remains of their snacks.

“Hey Dust, you should stay for dinner, it’s my night to cook!”

Well _that’s_ a surprise. Krem is friendly enough, but he usually takes some time to warm up to new adults. Bull’s not sure what Dust has done to make such a good impression, but he’d be lying if it didn’t give him some warm fuzzies to think of someone being that good with his little dude. Poor Dust looks a little trapped though, kind of like she’s deciding if chewing off her foot might be necessary for escape.

“Hey champ, why don’t you go take that inside and let Ms. Lavellan and I chat, ok? Pretty sure you’ve got homework you need to do, and I want you to elevate that leg.” Krem shoots him a pleading look, but does as he’s told and heads in the house, closing the door behind him. Bull turns back to Dust with a rueful smile. “Sorry about that, he gets enthusiastic when he likes someone. Don’t let him guilt you into staying, I know eating dinner with a strange guy twice your size and his kid probably isn’t high on your priority list. I can’t thank you enough for helping him out though, I mean that.”

“Umm… no problem. I wasn’t gonna just drive off and leave him. Also honestly I thought he just ran out into the street like an idiot, so my first plan was to read you both the riot act.” She grins, and _damn_ he likes her face.

“Wouldn’t blame you at all. And you know if you _would_ like to stay for dinner, you’re more than welcome. Though there’s no way I’m letting him cook with a bum knee, so it’s just gonna be pizza.” He’s not going to push, but there’s nothing wrong with being _polite_. Not that he wants his kid getting in more fights, but if Krem is going to start bringing home kind, good looking strangers, Bull isn’t above taking advantage of it. Having a full time job and an active kid means his chances to meet people have significantly lessened with time, unless he wants to start working his way through the Little League parents, and he’s not that desperate. Krem is totally worth it, but fortune does favor the bold.

Dust gives him another once over, and there’s nothing quick or polite about it. It’s thorough and interested and sends a very pleasant shiver down his spine. It’s not the look of a woman sizing up an opponent, more like she’s considering a buffet and deciding where to start devouring. It’s a look he can definitely appreciate.

“Well…” she says, drawing out the word. Her voice has a nice raspy quality to it, and she’s got that hint of an accent he associates with people who’ve lived a lot of different places. “Free _is_ my favorite food group, and it’s my night off, so sure, why not. I’ll move my bike to your driveway, if that’s ok? I left it parked down the street.”

“Yeah, no problem, I’ll leave the door unlocked, just come in when you get back.” He steps all the way up onto the porch, crowding her just a little and making her look up at his full height. He definitely catches the little hitch of breath as she looked alllll the way up, and it’s not a noise of fear.

“You are definitely not who I pictured when I imagined who owned this house.” From the way her eyes go wide after she says it, Bull suspects it wasn’t supposed to be an out loud thought. He just laughs and shrugs.

“What can I say, I really like pretty things.” He keeps his eyes firmly on hers when he speaks, his voice light but his meaning clear. “Also I like pink.”

That sets her laughing, and he grins. “Go get your bike and I’ll start negotiating with the kid on the pizza toppings. You got anything you hate?”

“Nah, I’m only picky about food I pay for. I do like lots of meat though.” He manages to turn his laugh into a cough, but from the twinkle in her eyes, the statement has had both the intended effect, _and_ the intended meaning.

“Good to know.” Giving her another wink he turns to walk into the house to make sure his kid is okay.

* * *

Krem is bummed he doesn’t get to cook, but pizza is a good alternative. Dust seems to like it, and that’s good. She also seems to like his pop, which is also good, but kind of awkward. Pop _definitely_ likes her. He tries not to think about his pop and sex stuff in the same thought, _ever_ , but he sees the way pop looks at Dust when she takes her jacket off, and it reminds him of the look he gave his last boyfriend.

Dust is much cooler though - she rides a motorcycle, and she’s got tattoos on her face and arms, and he likes the way she talks to him like he’s just a short adult, not a baby. He’s really glad he did most of his homework at school though, because his knee is killing him, and so is his eye, and his head. Honestly he feels kind of crappy all over, and the pills pop gave him aren’t doing a ton of good. Krem ends up eating pizza with a knife and fork, which is the kind of prissy crap Dorian does, but it hurts less that way.

“So Krem, is the cooking thing your idea, or is your dad making you learn as like, a life lesson thing?” Dust seems like she actually cares about the answers to her questions, unlike a lot of grown ups who just ask questions and then think of what they’re going to say next while you talk.

“I like it. I want to be a chef.” He takes another bite of pizza. He and Dust are splitting one with everything, while pop eats his gross pineapple and ham one.

“No shit, really?” She looks impressed, and then embarrassed, glancing at Bull nervously across the table. “Oh, sorry.”

Pop just grins, like Krem knew he would. “Don’t worry, he’s definitely heard worse from me, I’m not great at watching my mouth. Krem’s a good cook, I’m looking forward to letting him do all the cooking when baseball is over for the season.”

“I’m jealous. Most of what I eat is take out, or stuff I can cook in the microwave.”

Krem wrinkles his nose. Food out of the microwave is usually gross and soggy.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m a grown up and I can eat crap food if I want to.” Dust points at him and tries to look stern, but he can tell she’s kind of smiling. Her nails are short and painted sparkly dark purple, kind of like her lips. She looks like a total badass, even when she’s joking. He’s pretty sure Max would piss himself if Dust had actually broken up their fight. He just grins at her and shakes his head. Every time he smiles, it hurts, but it’s worth it because he likes having both of them to talk to.

“So what do you cook anyway? Fereldan food is crap, tell me your dad is teaching you something better than soggy chips or boiled everything.”

“Gross, no! I like making curry, best. And I’m learning how to make my own pasta.”

“And of course you were involved with those cookies, which were amazing. It’s a good thing I’m not a mage, because if a demon offered me those cookies, I’d sell out immediately.”

Krem laughs, but gives pop a look, because he knows he’s still not super cool with magic, and demons are right out. But pop is just stuffing more gross pizza in his face, and doesn’t seem to mind.

“Also I like Antivan food. Ms. Josie took us all to an Antivan restaurant for Mari’s birthday, and we ate this stuff called paella? It’s really good, I’m gonna learn how to make it. Mari got me an Antivan cookbook for my birthday, and I can already make some stuff.”

Dust is smiling a funny kind of smile, one of those smiles where you’re happy and sad at the same time.

“Paella is good. I haven’t had it in years and years.”

“You like Antivan food?” He asks, getting excited. Most of his friends are from Ferelden and they think it’s kind of weird he likes cooking at all, though they always like the cookies. Most of them would eat nothing but cheeseburgers and hot dogs if they had the choice, which he personally thinks is super boring.

“Yeah, I lived there when I was a kid,” she says. “Hard to find good Antivan food in Ferelden.”

Krem really wants to ask a bunch of questions about Antiva, but he can see from Dust’s face that she’s kind of uncomfortable. He thinks about Tevinter, and how he feels when people ask him about it, and decides he doesn’t need answers that bad.

“Well then you can taste my paella when I make it and tell me if it’s good.” He offers instead. He sees pop smiling at him out of the corner of his eye and feels like he made the right choice.

“It’s a date.” Dust says, giving him a smile that looks a lot happier.

“Man, my kid is getting more dates than me already, this is way unfair.” Pop does a big pout, which looks ridiculous, and Krem can’t help but laugh. Dust just rolls her eyes, and goes back to eating her pizza. They’re all quiet for a while after that, but it’s a nice quiet, comfortable, not the weird quiet where you’re trying to think of something to say. He’s starting to feel really tired. School is going to suck tomorrow, and he knows he’s going to have to tell pop the whole story about the fight, which is totally Max’s fault, but maybe he was kind of rude too....

Next thing he knows, pop is squeezing his shoulder to wake him up.

“Come on Krem-puff, you need to get both eyes shut, not just the swollen one.”

Krem doesn’t want Dust to think he’s a baby, but he really is super tired. Then he remembers a question he wanted to ask earlier.

“Dust, have you ever been to a baseball game?” Her eyebrows come together like he just asked a complicated math problem.

“Uhh… no? Not that I remember anyway.”

“You should come to our game on Sunday. You can sit with Dorian, he’s kind of a snob, but he’s funny too. We’ll win and you can have more cookies.”

She laughs, and normally that would bug him, but he likes her laugh, it always sounds kind of like she’s surprised to be laughing.

“I’ll come to your game if you don’t give your dad crap about going to bed.”

“Deal.” He says, holding out his hand, and she shakes it just like he’s a grown up. Her hands have tattoos too, she’s so cool. Pop just laughs and picks him up, like he’s a freaking _baby_ , so embarrassing! He’s about to complain and then he remembers his promise, so he keeps quiet. He’s asleep before his head even hits the pillow. 

* * *

Bull gets Krem’s shoes and socks off and muscles him under the covers with no problem, figuring there’s no point in waking the kid up just to get him into pajamas. It won’t kill him to sleep in his clothes, good practice for when he’s in college pulling all nighters. The poor kid’s gonna be feeling it in the morning, but knowing Krem he won’t complain at all. Bull decides he’ll get up early and make them waffles for breakfast as a special treat, and see if that lets the little dude loosen up enough to tell the rest of the story of the fight.

He makes his way silently out of the room, leaving the door open a bit, making sure the low light in the hallway is on. Krem would never in a million years admit he sleeps better with the light on and his door open, but Bull knows better. He declares the light is because humans have terrible night vision and he doesn’t want Krem tripping on the way to the bathroom. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth. While they maintain that policy of honesty, Bull has learned that sometimes a little bit of shared fiction smooth things out for both of them. If they both know the truth it’s ok not to push on the things that hurt.

Thinking about fictions, he’s a little concerned he’s going to have a really disappointed Krem on his hands come Sunday if Dust was just being polite about attending the baseball game. When he walks out into the living room he find she’s abandoned the dining room table in favor of standing in front of the fireplace, examining the photos on the mantle. It’s cliche as hell, but Bull loves keeping pictures of Krem up there. They range in age from when Bull took him in at age six, to a great picture of them from their camping trip to Lake Calenhad early in the summer. Bull only takes a moment to admire her ass before he walks up behind her.

“Hey-” he starts, but stops again when she nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Fuck!” He tries not to laugh at the little squeak in her voice, and her obviously flustered expression. “Mythal’s tits, how the hell do you move that quietly? You’ve got to be pushing four hundred pounds!”

“Four-thirty,” he corrects with a grin. Her eyes go very wide and he’s pretty sure she’s doing some math and picturing just what he could do with that much muscle. The murmur of “holy _shit_ ” makes him chuckle, and she slaps her hand over her mouth in horror. _Definitely_ another thought she didn’t meant to say out loud. It’s a little hard to tell in the low light, but he thinks the tips of her ears go red, which is fucking adorable.

“Sorry,” she says, “being caught snooping makes me obnoxious apparently.”

“Nothing wrong with a little curiosity.” He lets his grin turn into something a little less innocent, his voice get just a little lower. Without the scent of the pizza to distract him, he can smell her, and she smells fucking fantastic - leather, clean sweat, and the remains of some kind of perfume with both fruit and floral notes. The combination is really, really working for him, especially the leather.

“Unless you’re a cat.” She retorts, looking away from him. Her ears are definitely red at the tips, but she’s leaning toward him just a little.

“Oh come on, you can’t forget the rest - satisfaction brings it back.” She laughs at that, and it looks damn good on her. If he didn’t have a strict policy about no one night stands with Krem home, he’d be really tempted to see just how curious and how satisfied he can make her, but he’s got his priorities straight. Mostly. He gives himself a mental shake to remind himself to focus.

“Uh, so look, about the game on Sunday…” He’s trying to think of a tactful way of asking if she was just bullshitting his kid, but he can’t really think of one. “Were you just bullshitting the kid, or are you planning to show up?”

The laugh disappears fast, and she’s got one hell of an impressive glare. Those pale eyes of hers are kind of spooky when she’s mad. And yet, still hot.

“I do _not_ lie to children.” The response is harsh enough that he thinks there might be a little history there, but honestly he’s just as happy to have her be offended by the idea. A lot of adults seem to think kids don’t pay attention to that kind of shit, and they’re dead wrong.

“Okay, sorry, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t gonna be dealing with a really bummed out kid on Sunday. Some people seem to think children will just forget the shit they say, and they really don’t.”

“I know.” She says, crossing her arms over her chest. Alright, definitely some history. The look on her face reminds him a little too much of Krem when he talks about his birth parents. Which leads to a kind of upsetting thought. Bull really _looks_ at her face for a minute, trying to see past the tattoos and make up, and realizes he has no clue how old she is. _Oh fuck..._

“Wait, how old are you?” He asks, suddenly concerned he’s being super inappropriate in a not fun way. He takes a step back and watches as anger is replaced by confusion on her face.

“Getting a little personal there, don’t you think?” She asks, eyebrows drawing together. Then she shrugs, obviously not that bothered. “I’m thirty two, why?”

“Thank _fuck,”_ he says fervently. “I was suddenly worried you were like… nineteen and I was being a creepy perv.”

Her face flashes through a whole range of expressions before finally settling on a _deeply_ unimpressed sneer.

“What, you think somehow you can’t be a creepy perv just because I’m a grown woman?” She leans back and folds her arms firmly over her chest, obviously just waiting for him to say something else stupid so she can rip him a new one. Which, admittedly, he’d deserve.

“Sorry, that came out wrong.” He admits, scratching at the base of one of his horns in embarrassment. “I mean I try not to be a creep, but that’s not my really my call, kind of depends on the other person’s point of view, you know? I just meant it would make me a _special_ brand of creepy perv to hit on a girl young enough to be my daughter.”

She keeps giving him the stink eye for a few more moments, before giving a sigh and lowering her hands to her hips “Alright, I’ll bite, just how old _are_ you?

“Hey, don’t say it like that!” He objects. Koslun, it’s not like he’s ancient, he’s still _totally_ in his prime. “I’m thirty-nine. Oh and since you’re getting all my stats, I’m 7’5” with the horns.” He waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively while pointing at his head and her lips twitch back into a smile

“You are corny as shit.”

“Yeah.” He shifts back toward her a little, and she doesn’t move, just looks up at him speculatively. It’s the kind of look that could _definitely_ turn into an invitation. The temptation to kiss her is so damn strong, but if he starts he’s really concerned he wouldn’t be able to stop at just kissing. He leans back again, telling his body to calm the fuck down. Sure it’s been a few weeks since he’s been with anyone but his hand and his own toys, but he’s not some over eager teenager, Koslun’s balls. “So uh… why don’t you give me your number and I’ll text you the time and address for the game on Sunday.”

“What, no dick pics?” He’s pretty sure that smirk of hers is a trap, but he’s thinking of taking the bait anyway.

“Only by _specific_ request.” He answers primly.

“I suppose if I want to collect _all_ the stats…” She trails off coyly, licking her lips and glancing down where his dick is starting to get way too interested in a potential modeling opportunity. Bull groans, leaning forward with his hands on the mantle while he closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them her grin is knowing and filthy. Fuck but it’s good to see.

“You’re killing me here. Do you want my son to be an orphan?” He asks piteously. The grin stays firmly in place as she reaches out to give his bicep a squeeze. He flexes unconsciously and her grin gets even wider before she lets go and clasps both hands behind her back. He tries very hard to ignore what it does to her tits in her very snug tank top.

“Nah, Krem likes you, I’d hate to bum him out. Besides, I’m betting you’d have to use an iPad instead of a phone.” He bursts out laughing and it’s her turn to wink.

“Actually I just use panorama mode.” He shoots back, setting her off into laughter in turn. He shakes his head. Assuming she’s really interested, he’s getting her into bed as soon as possible. Or up against a wall. Shit even the floor would do.... “Come on, before I get myself in trouble, lemme grab my phone.”

She trails him back into the kitchen, where he grabs his phone out of the basket he keeps on the counter for all his pocket crap. Opening his phone book he types “Tease” in the name field and hands her the phone. She laughs when she sees what he’s written, and quickly types in a number which he really hopes is actually hers. She hands it back to him with a rueful smile.

“I should head out, I’ve still got shit I need to do tonight. But it was fun, thanks for the invite. Also thanks for not freaking out at your kid so I had to kick your ass in front of him.”

If he were a different kind of guy he might be insulted, but honestly it gives him a warm feeling in his chest to think of her protecting some stray kid off the street. Considering he’s pretty sure he weighs at _least_ three times as much as her and has a good two feet on her height-wise, he’s damn impressed that she obviously means it.

“I’d say getting his ass kicked is punishment all on it’s own, I’m not about to come down on him like a ton of bricks. But I’m really glad he ran into you. Metaphorically I mean.”

The look she gives him for just a moment is kind of… soft, and surprised, and he’s not entirely sure what to make of it, but his breath catches over just how pretty her face is.

“Uh… yeah, no problem.” She looks nervous again, and he wonders what he did wrong… or what he did right. “I better go.”

She heads past him to the hallway where her leather jacket is hanging, stooping to pick up her helmet after she gets zipped up. He flicks the porch light on, following her out of the house. She stops when she gets onto the porch, looking around in the low evening light and taking a deep breath that seems to ease the nervousness again.

“This is gonna sound really weird, but I love your house. I was telling Krem I drive through the neighborhood just to see it.” She looks a little embarrassed by the whole thing.

“No shit? That’s pretty cute.”

“Ugh, no, pretend I didn’t tell you.”

“Come on, I like cute, just look at my house.”

“Krem is right, you _are_ a dork.”

“Yeah, he usually is.”

“Okay, I’m leaving for real now. I’ll see you Sunday.” Dust hops down the stairs and heads toward her bike. She’s got a strong, hip swaying gait that is a pleasure to watch.

“Drive safe!” He calls watching her pull her helmet down over her head before mounting her bike, which is also a pleasure to watch. His dick gives notice of its interest again, but he ignores it. Those leather pants of her are a _menace_. She opens her visor to give him a last grin.

“Will do old man!”

“Hurtful!” Is the last word he gets in before she starts the bike with a muted roar that settles to a growling purr. Fuck it’s sexy. Flipping her visor back down, she gives him a wave, pulling out of the driveway and taking off into the soft summer twilight.


	3. Double Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 70% inappropriate texting, 20% fluff, 10% Isabela being great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note on texting in my fics - the names are based on whatever the other person has them listed as in their own phone.

Dust is home and in her pjs, having acquired groceries and fancy shampoo, when a text comes in from a number she doesn’t recognize.

_Calenhad Park, 2895 Ostagar Road, 10 am ]:-) TIB_

She’s laughing at Bull’s stupid smiley face as she saves his number in her phone under “Hot Dad.” Then she looks at the text again as the time of the game actually sinks in. _Fuuuuuck._

 _Tease: Tell Krem he’s really lucky he’s cute,_ she texts back, _because I work until 3 am on Saturday._

_Hot Dad: Oh shit, sorry about that! What if I offer to provide coffee and donuts?_

_Tease: An acceptable bribe. I like my coffee sweet and creamy, and I like the long donuts with chocolate frosting that are full of custard._

_Hot Dad: … I honestly can’t tell if that’s supposed to be innuendo or not?_

_Tease: I’m very serious about donuts Bull._

_Hot Dad: Noted. Thanks again for agreeing to go to the game. He’ll be stoked to have you watch him play. Assuming his knee is better and we don’t bench him._

_Tease: No problem - who doesn’t like being totally confused about what the fuck is happening while half asleep on a Sunday morning when she could be in bed?_

_Hot Dad: I can explain it to you sometime… you know, making it to third base, then hitting a home run._

She let’s out a groaning laugh. And she thought _Hawke_ was the king of cheesy pickup lines.

_Tease: Sweet Creators you are so fucking cheesy. You need to save these for in person where I can be distracted by your muscles and not how bad these pickup lines are._

_Hot Dad: Oh you like the muscles do you?_

_Tease: I think I made that pretty obvious._

_Hot Dad: Shit, I REALLY hate to interrupt this train of thought, but I need to hit the sack. Gonna get up early and make waffles for my little dude._

_Tease: That’s sickeningly cute. Go to sleep old man, you have a child to take care of._

_Hot Dad: You are a brat. A hurtful, hurtful brat._

_Tease: You started it. And, btw, I might be a brat, but I’m definitely NOT a tease._

_Hot Dad: Oh really? Because these texts would suggest otherwise._

_Tease: Nah, this isn’t teasing, this is just foreplay. When I’m ready I will tell you exactly what I want, when I want it, and how I want you to give it to me. Just like with the coffee and donuts._

There’s a pause in the texts and she smirks, pretty confident she’s short circuited Bull’s brain.

_Hot Dad: This has moved past teasing into actual torture._

_Tease: I know. And you like it._

_Hot Dad: I really fucking do._

_Tease: Sweet dreams Bull._

* * *

 Krem spills the beans over breakfast, and it’s pretty much what Bull expected - Max started talking shit about the Chargers, got a little too personal, and Krem escalated with a scathing indictment of the Griffons and how shitty their playing is. Which, Bull will admit to himself, the team _is_ actually kind of shitty, but he blames it on their asshole coach. Rendon Howe is a douche-canoe of the highest order, and Bull would love to tell the guy exactly how and where to fuck off, but he maintains peace for the sake of being a good example.

“Look, we both know Max can be kind of an asshole. And three on one is definitely total bullshit, but you need to cool it with this little feud you two have going.” It’s hard to lecture when Krem has a nasty black eye, his lip is scabbed, and he’s still eating in cautious bites, but Bull’s gotta drive the point home. Every time Krem gets in a fight, or shows up to school with bruises, Bull gets a call from a school counselor, and he’s having flashbacks to three years earlier when he was desperately fighting through bureaucratic fuckery to finalize Krem’s adoption. Bull still gets a cold, hard lump in his stomach when he thinks of someone trying to take Krem away from him, and how close he came to having it happen.

“I’m gonna send you with a note for Ms. Bethany, letting her know what happened, and that you’re grounded at home, ok?”

Krem frowns down at his waffles, nodding his head solemnly, and swallows hard. It takes all of Bull’s considerable willpower not to just grab the kid and hug him, but he knows he’s gotta stay strong and let Krem process shit sometimes.

“You keep an eye on that knee today at school, if it swells up you head to the nurse’s office. I texted Alistair and he’s gonna drop you off after school on the way to take Stitches to practice. No practice for you until Thursday, and only if your knee looks ok.”

“Can’t I at least _watch_?” Krem’s voice is right on the line before it would technically cross over into whining, so Bull let’s it go.

“Nope. You’re coming home, doing your homework, and keeping the knee elevated. And no Food Network or Cooking channel for the rest of the week either.” Krem looks genuinely stricken by that, and Bull has to suppress a laugh. His son is so fucking great.

“Okay.” Krem goes back to eating his waffles for a bit, takes a couples bites of bacon, and then looks back up at Bull, eyes pleading. “Can I at least cook dinner tonight?”

“Not tonight, Krem-puff, but maybe tomorrow, ok? You invited a date to your game on Sunday, last thing you want it not to play because you overdid it this week, right?”

“Ugh, pop, she’s not my _date_. You are not funny.” Krem hesitates a minute, little face pensive. “You think she’s really gonna come to the game?”

“Yeah, for sure. I texted her the time and address, and she says she’s coming, even though she has to work late the night before. Says to tell you you’re lucky you’re cute.”

That gets a laugh, and a smug expression. “Cool.”

* * *

Wednesdays are busy because it’s Wing Night, the kitchen churning out hot wings that barely qualify as tepid in Dust’s opinion, but Fereldans love them. Sandal and Orana are busy in the kitchen, Bodahn and Hawke running trays and plates at high speed to a bar full of tender mouthed college kids and tired blue collar workers. She and Bela are manning the bar as usual, running the occasional pitcher or tray to a table that tips well. They aren’t shy about playing favorites, and everyone knows it.

There’s a bit of a lull around 9 pm when the early evening crowd starts to clear out a bit. By ten the rougher crowd will start to trickle in, and she and Bela will get busier. Bikers tip _way_ better than college kids, especially if they get a little T & A with the service. Dust doesn’t mind at all, since they’re also better at keeping their hands to themselves than the college crowd. Well at least unless they’ve been invited, and that’s an invitation she’s extended to quite a few customers over the years.

“So, I have a moral dilemma.” She and Bela are splitting a plate of _actual_ hot wings, the kind they feed to the Tal Vashoth and the few other Northerners who come in. The burn is incredibly satisfying.

“Sweet thing you know I love helping you out with immorality, lay it on me.”

“If I make friends with a kid, is it ok if I want to bang his dad like a drum? Is that off limits? Because I want him to fuck me into the next Age.”

Bela gestures with a chicken wing, looking confused.

“Why would it be? He’s not married or anything, right?”

“No, of course not! That’s a mistake I plan to only ever make once in a lifetime.” Dust shoves away unpleasant memories with long practice, and Bela looks contrite.

“Sorry sweet thing, but that’s the only problem I could see. And can we rewind a minute, because I understand wanting to fuck the hot dad part, but _you_ making friends with a kid is where you lose me.” Bela smiles to take the sting out of her teasing.

“Oh come on, it’s not like I _hate_ children.” Dust protests.

“No, you just avoid them like the plague.” Bela replies dryly.

“Well they _are_ usually incubating like five different plagues at any given time.”

“Yes, all the more reason I’m confused by the ‘if I make friends with a kid’ bit.”

One of their regulars comes up for a refill and Dust makes a show of licking all the sauce off her fingers and lips before cleaning them off on a wet bar rag and pulling him another pint. He grins and leaves a hefty tip for the cheap beer and the good show.

“I was on my way to the store on Monday, and this human kid basically just falls in the fucking street in front of me. I manage not to run him over, but I’m pissed, so I start to yell at him.” One of the college tables is waving an empty pitcher around, but she just flips them a finger. They know they’re not on delivery level and they can walk their skinny asses up to the bar.

“You’re so charming sweet thing, it’s a wonder children don’t follow you around like ducklings.” Bela ignores the college students completely, not even bothering with a rude gesture of her own.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m mean, moving on. Turns out he got ganged up on by three other little human shits, so I get out my first aid kit to patch his face up.”

“Awww, you _do_ have a heart!”

“Bela, swear to Elgar’nan I will turn you over my knee.”

“Mmm… you should know by now that’s not a very good threat.” The smile Bela gives her is smug, and as hot as the wings they’re eating, but it's all for show. Their fuck buddy days are long over, except for an occasional drunken grope or make out session. Bela, Hawke, and Merrill have settled down into their own little triad of domestic bliss, but that would never stop Bela from flirting blatantly and outrageously.

“ _Anyway_ , his knees were also a mess, so I ended up following him home and sitting on his porch to finish getting him all cleaned up. His name is Krem, and he actually served me cookies and iced tea afterwards, it was so fucking cute I almost died.”

“What kind of cookies?” Hawke asks, coming up to give Bela a quick kiss on the neck.

“Chocolate chunk, with nuts. They were fucking amazing, he and his dad make them when his baseball team wins.”

Hawke makes a noise of longing before grabbing an order from the window and heading back onto the floor. Hawke has an even bigger sweet tooth than Dust, if it’s possible.

“The kid is actually pretty fun, and we’re still talking when his dad finally gets home.” Bela nods encouragingly but doesn’t say anything, still working on her dinner. “Only low and behold, turns out he’s adopted, because his dad is the biggest fucking qunari I have _ever_ seen.”

“Oooh, and now we’re getting to the good part. I want details.”

“Bela, he’s so fucking hot, it is legitimately painful. Horns like handlebars, green eyes, seven foot five, four hundred thirty pounds! Built like a brick shit house wearing flannel and jeans.”

“Yes _please!_ ”

“And get this, his name is The Iron Bull.”

Bela nearly chokes on a bit of chicken when she starts laughing.

“No!”

“Yes! And the terrible thing is it works for him Bela. Like, it didn’t even seem weird when he introduced himself. Mostly it just made me want to wear red underwear.”

Bela laughs again and gestures for Dust to continue.

“So anyway, I was kind of expecting him to go off on the kid for being in a fight, but he was really chill and sweet about the whole thing. Then Krem invites me for dinner, because it’s his night to cook, and he wants to be a chef.”

“Stop, you’re killing me, this child is too adorable for words.”

“I _know!_ My iceberg of a heart actually melted slightly. But anyway, Bull sends the kid off, and let’s me know he’s grateful, but I don’t have to stay for dinner if I’m not comfortable eating with a strange man.”

“Little does he know you’re more likely to eat the strange man than eat dinner _with_ him.” Bela’s grin is a wicked, wicked thing, and Dust feels a matching smile form on her own face.

“Point to you. But anyway, you know I don’t turn down free food, so I have pizza with the two of them because his dad won’t let him cook with the bad knees. And _then_ Krem invites me to his baseball game this Sunday and I agree because how do you say no to that? Bull puts him to bed, then we flirt for a little while, and I take off. Pretty sure if it weren’t for the kid he’d have fucked me into a wall though.”

“Well of course he would have, sweet thing, you are imminently fuckable.”

“Also an excellent point. But is that like… off limits? Because I like Krem. I mean, I have no idea how to be friends with an eleven year old, but should his dad be off limits? I basically told Bull I was going to fuck him, but the more I think about it, the more I think maybe I shouldn’t, because of the kid.”

Dust takes the last chicken wing and chews contemplatively while Bela washes her hands in the small bar sink and dabs the last of the wing sauce off her face with the bar towel.

“Well… I mean it depends, are you talking about dating, or just fucking?”

Dust rolls her eyes. “This is _me_ we’re talking about, of course I’m not going to date him.”

“Why not?”

Dust sighs. Bela isn’t pushy with it, but ever since she moved in with Hawke and Merrill she’s been dropping hints she thinks Dust should give the whole relationship thing a try again. As if Dust hasn’t been bored or freaked out by the two month mark every time she’s given it a shot in the last few years.

“Even if I _were_ to lose my mind and let you convince me I should give the dating thing a try, can you imagine a bigger disaster than me dating a single dad, getting involved in his kid’s life, and then having my usual reaction to dating?”

It’s Bela’s turn to sigh now. “You mean running screaming into the hills? And by hills I mean a shiny new bed? I suppose you have a point.”

“Yeah.” She takes Bela’s place at the sink to clean off, and then brings their plate back to the kitchen before slipping out onto the floor to collect some empty pitchers and glasses. They spend a while filling orders and serving in silence while Dust thinks regretfully about Bull’s biceps, and his smile, and his horns, and the way his voice rumbles when he flirts…

“No reason not to offer to be friends with benefits though.” Bela says, pulling Dust out of her revery.

“Wait, you think?” That isn’t actually the answer she was expecting. Bela might not follow a lot of society’s pointless rules, but she has a rock solid sense of her own morality, and follows her personal code strictly. It’s something Dust really admires about her, since she hasn’t always been able to say the same thing herself.

“Sure, why not? Just be clear about what you want, and make sure Bull is okay with it. No reason you two can’t keep the sex separate from the kid stuff. I mean you would anyway, _obviously_. But you do the fuck buddy thing just fine, and as long as Daddy Hot Stuff doesn’t expect anything more, you should be fine. I mean did he seem like the candle light dinner type?”

Dust thinks about Bull, and his flirting, and how totally unsurprised he was about how fast they ramped it up to pre-booty call levels. She also thinks about his biceps again, just for good measure.

“Nah, I mean I think he’d buy me dinner first if I asked, but he seemed like he’d be ok just getting straight to business.”

“Well there you go! Be friends with the kid, and fuck the dad, problem solved. And get me pics because I absolutely need to see this man for my life to be complete. Preferably naked, but I’ll leave you to negotiate that.”

Dust is still laughing when the Valo-Kas burst through the door, ending conversation and getting the real fun started for the night.

* * *

On Thursday afternoon, Bull is locked in his office on the longest, most tedious of his weekly conference calls, when his personal cell phone buzzes on his desk. He's already got his office phone on mute while he browses through his favorite gardening blogs, so he picks his phone up in hopes for anything to alleviate the boredom. To his surprise and pleasure it's a text from Dust.

_Tease: So remember what I said about telling you what I want?_

Oh does he ever. He'd maybe been jerking off to the idea for the past couple days, including in the shower that morning. His dick is already perking up just at the mention of it, which is going to get awkward real fast in his office clothes. He should probably tell her he's at work, and ask her to save the fun stuff for later. Then again he gets the impression their schedules are pretty opposite of each other, and if he's honest there's no fucking way he's missing out on sexy texts to listen to Solas Harel talking just to hear the sound of his own fucking voice.

_Hot Dad: You could say that. Remembered it a few times already actually._

_Tease: Oh good… then next time you remember it you can send me a dick pic. I'm happy to trade, tits for testicles. ;)_

He stifles a laugh so that none of his co-workers get curious about why he’s laughing about a call everyone knows he hates with a passion.

_Hot Dad: Gonna be a little hard considering I’m at work right now._

_Tease: Please tell me that pun wasn’t intended._

Bull grins broadly, even though she’d not there to see it..

_Hot Dad: Well it wasn’t, but now it is._

_Tease: I’m reconsidering my request/offer._

_Hot Dad: Hey, you brought it up!_

_Tease: *sigh* Fine. So that’s a no on pics? I can delete these if we’re not gonna go there._

_Hot Dad: Oh hey, hey, let’s not be hasty. I didn’t say no, just I can’t reciprocate right now._

Oddly enough, he’s never actually taken a dick pic. Maybe because most of his hookups start in person and don’t usually involve texting unless it’s scheduling a round two. Foreplay via text message is a new experience. Still, how hard can it be? He’s gotten his share of dick pics, tit pics, and nudes in general, but no one has actually ever asked him to send any himself. Now that he thinks about it, it’s kind of insulting.

_Tease: Hmm… so when do you get off work?_

_Hot Dad: 3:30, but then the Chargers have practice and Krem doesn’t go to bed until 9._

There’s a lull where he doesn’t get any more texts, and he tries to listen to the call for a bit to make sure he’s not missing anything important (he’s not) and speculates on just how fast his chance of getting pics is going down.

_Tease: Well lucky for you, no one at my work gives a fuck if I get dick pics while I’m on the clock, so that’s fine with me. The only problem is nosy coworkers._

_Hot Dad: Alright, now I’m curious about where you work._

_Tease: Ha, don’t get excited, it’s not that interesting. I’m a bartender at the Siren’s Call._

_Hot Dad: No shit? I’ve been to that place. You weren’t there though, it was a human woman tending bar that night._

_Tease: Isabela, my boss. She would be the curious co-worker._

_Hot Dad: Well, you know I’m a firm supporter of curiosity (pun totally intended that time.)_

_Tease: It’s like you don’t actually WANT to get in my pants._

_Hot Dad: Oh, I do, I really, really do._

_Tease: Good to know. So… you want to live dangerously and I’ll text you now, or should I wait until tonight?_

He should wait. He knows he should wait. He’s in the middle of work, the last thing he needs is a hard-on, and the conversation alone is enough that he’s going to have to think about sad nugs for a while before leaving his office. But shit he is _so_ tempted. The call is so boring, and Dust is so hot, and his little head is arguing loudly with his big head.

Fuck it. The little head wins.

_Hot Dad: I’m going to regret this. Send them now._

_Tease: Oooh, living dangerously._

Harel is droning on and on over speaker about shit that could have been covered in a single email with three bullet points while Bull fidgets, waiting for a picture to come in. When his phone buzzes he takes a deep breath and acknowledges that he’s probably making a mistake, but he’s an adult and he’s allowed to do so.

Three pictures come through as a slide show. He has _absolutely_ made a mistake. A glorious fucking mistake. The first shot is just Dust’s face, hair down, lips red, eyes lined in sharp black. She’s lying back on a pillow, nearly gleaming in diffused afternoon sunlight. The little smirk she’s wearing would probably be enough to get him hard if he just stared at it long enough, even without the mental image of her beneath him. It’s already got him harder than he ever should be at work, but the next picture makes blood flow down from his head so fast he’s a little surprised he doesn’t end up dizzy.

The shot is cropped at the neck, but there’s no doubt that it’s her - the white hair over one shoulder and the traditional tattoos are pretty distinctive. All she’s wearing other than the hair and tattoos is a pair of lacy, scarlet panties that match her lipstick. The body in the panties is fucking _incredible - s_ he definitely lives up to and surpasses his active imagination. Her tits are on the small side, high and round, nipples a ruddy, dark brown against her bronze skin. Little silver bars pierce through the hardened nubs, and his mouth twitches with a visceral longing to bite them.

The third pic was obviously taken in a mirror, because he can see the phone in her hand, but he doesn’t care because it’s a perfect shot of one of the most incredible asses he’s ever seen, and he’s seen his share. She’s definitely in the top five. Genetics, exercise, or a lucky combination, he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care - it’s big and round and juicy, and he is definitely going to be slapping those cheeks until they jiggle. The red panties barely cover the upper slope, leaving the bottom curves visible. There are more tattoos than just the ones on her arms and face, smooth skin dotted with colorful works of art and strong black lines, but the total picture is distracting enough that he can’t focus on them.

He closes the pictures down and takes a few deep breaths, because he’s rock hard and the urge to lock his door and just jerk off under his desk is so strong he has to grip the arms of his chair until they creak to keep himself still.

“-ron Bull?”

His focus snaps back to his work phone and he swears silently in his head. He hits the mute button and leans over the speaker.

“Sorry Solas, can you repeat that? Someone was sending me a message and I was trying to let them know I was still on the phone.”

He can hear the bald asshole give a long suffering sigh, before repeating himself, his tone patronizing. “I was asking if you had anything further to add to what I’ve covered before we adjourn for the week?”

Since he’s pretty sure no one on the call needs an update on the state of his dick, there’s definitely nothing more to add.

“Nope, you covered all the bases, just like always Solas, thanks.”

There’s the usual round of mumbled goodbyes full of barely restrained relief, and Bull hits the disconnect button with a little more force than necessary. He leans back and takes a deep breath, trying to ease the haze of mild panic and arousal, before picking up his cell to see three new texts from Dust.

_Tease: Normally this is the part where you send me some kind of compliment, just FYI._

_Tease: Don’t tell me your heart stopped over tit pics old man._

_Tease: Uh… Bull?_

Fuck, she’s going to think he’s a complete douche for leaving her hanging like that.

_Hot Dad: Sorry, not a heart attack, though it was close. Work had terrible timing, my conference call interrupted while I was trying to stop myself from jerking off in my office._

Maybe not the most poetic of compliments, but definitely honest and heartfelt. His dick is still at attention, and he kind of wants to send her parents a fruit basket, just for that ass alone.

_Tease: Sorry, not sorry._

_Hot Dad: You have nothing to even PRETEND to be sorry for, Koslun’s balls._

_Tease: I’m significantly more interested in YOUR balls, but thanks._

He’s still chuckling and trying to think of a clever comeback with the limited blood flow to his brain, but she beats him to the next text.

_Tease: So hey, I should probably mention before we get around to the actual sex, that I’m not interested in the whole dating/relationship thing. Fuck buddies, sure, but that’s it. I’m pretty crap at the girlfriend thing, and I really don’t want to risk it with someone who’s got a kid._

_Tease: I mean, not that Krem isn’t great, just… I’m not great. At dating. Or responsibility and commitment._

_Tease: Shit, I sound like a huge asshole. I’m sorry, I’m just trying to be honest. If that’s a deal breaker for you I won’t be insulted, I promise._

Bull feels a little like he’s in some kind of alternate universe, because normally _he’s_ the one letting people know he needs to keep it casual. Not that he’d _mind_ something more serious, but he’s not going to risk bringing someone into Krem’s life and having them disappear when the novelty of riding the Bull wears off.

Which doesn’t really explain why he feels a little twinge of disappointment about the no dating thing, especially considering how much Krem seems to like her. Still, he appreciates her being up front about it and not playing games. He ignores the disappointment and texts back.

_Hot Dad: Hey, whatever works for you, works for me. I’m not real big on dating myself._

_Tease: Thank fuck, because I really want you to pound me face first into a mattress until I can’t see straight._

Bull’s own eyes nearly cross at the mental image of her on all fours on his bed with his hands on her hips while he pounds into her. He only realizes he’s clutching the arms of his chair again when they begin to creak. Unwrapping his fingers takes some concentration, but isn’t enough to distract him from being painfully hard. Why is he doing this to himself?

_Hot Dad: OK, I think we’re fast approaching heart attack territory. What’s your work schedule like?_

_Tease: Normally around 6 pm to 3 am. I take Sundays and Mondays off._

_Hot Dad: Damn, we really do have opposite schedules._

_Tease: How’s your boss feel about long lunches?_

_Hot Dad: She doesn’t honestly give a shit, but my schedule can be kind of a pisser._

_Tease: You’re such a fucking grown up. Conference calls, meetings, schedules. You probably have a 401k and play golf or some shit._

_Hot Dad: Yes to the 401k, no to the golf. You done being a brat about my responsible adulthood?_

_Tease: Eh, probably not for good, but I’m done for now._

If Bull is honest, the whole 9-5 job/homeowner/dad thing still kind of catches him by surprise. Some days he’s a little shocked he’s not the cocky young Hissrad on his first special forces mission to Seheron anymore. He didn’t even expect to live long enough to see thirty, and here he is checking his work calendar for a booty call, and coaching Little League. Life is fucking weird.

_Hot Dad: OK, so how does Monday at 1 pm work for you?_

_Tease: Did you just check your work calendar to schedule fucking me?????_

He’s amused and a little embarrassed, because he can just imagine the incredulous look on her face.

_Hot Dad: Hey it’s weird for me too, but sometimes you just gotta be flexible._

_Tease: Well I AM very bendy. Sure, we can have lunch sex. Or breakfast sex for me. You’re coming to my place though. I’m not getting dressed and riding over just to take my clothes off._

He decides not to think too hard about the bendy comment, because otherwise he’s not going to be getting up from his desk for the next hour.

_Hot Dad: Works for me, just text me your address at some point._

_Tease: All right - sunday at 10 am for baseball, and monday at 1 pm sex. I’m not putting this in my calendar because I don’t fucking have one. And there had better be dick pics in my messages by 9:30 tonight._

_Hot Dad: Can do._

_Tease: Alright, get back to work old man, you have a mouth to feed._


	4. Solid Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The bat shall be a smooth, round stick not more than 2.61 inches in diameter at the thickest part and not more than 42 inches in length. The bat shall be one piece of solid wood."  
> -American Major Leagues, Rule 1.10(a)
> 
> 5k words about dick pics. I REGRET NOTHING. If I give fandom nothing else, may this be my legacy.
> 
> And also introducing Dorian Pavus, Uber Troll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone so much for all the kudos and positive comments on this fic, I'm delighted and honestly a little shocked! I may not respond individually, but know that I am reading them, and they make me smile, and laugh, and motivate me to keep on writing. 
> 
> Also I want you all to know the sheer quantity of research I did for this chapter should qualify me for hazard pay. I Have Seen Some Shit. 80% of people who post dick pics should not be allowed to take pictures of themselves, EVER.

By the time Krem goes to bed, Bull has spent most of the afternoon and evening fighting off awkward boners until it’s a wonder he hasn’t passed out from lack of blood flow to the brain. He’s generally pretty good at compartmentalizing, leftover skills from Ben-Hassrath training, but every time he had picked his phone up that afternoon he got a flash of memory and silently cursed himself. Cullen had thrown more than one questioning look his way at practice, but there were too many little ears around for him to risk an explanation. Instead he just tried to adjust surreptitiously and was grateful his sweat pants were roomy.

With Krem asleep (he checks to be sure) Bull retreats to his bedroom and gives a quiet groan of relief. His door is firmly locked, just in case, before he abandons his pants and underwear on the floor and grabs his phone from where it’s been charging on the nightstand to keep him from temptation. He flops back on his bed and navigates to his messaging app so he can open the pictures of Dust again.

“Fuuuuck.” He mutters softly to himself, letting his free hand wander down to his dick, which is getting hard like it’s on a damn _mission_. Now that he’s not hiding in his office, standing on a baseball field, or helping Krem cook dinner, he can take the time to examine each picture individually, with the appreciation they deserve. Despite how badly he wants his mouth on her tits and his hands on her ass, it’s the picture of Dust’s face Bull keeps coming back to. He thinks she’d probably laugh at him, but shit he’s always been a sucker for eye contact, and that little smirk of hers just does it for him.

Before he can get too ahead of himself, he sits back up and pokes at the camera icon on his messenger app so he can take his requested dick pick. He’s a man of his word after all, and if Dust wants to do some window shopping, he’s pretty confident she’s not going to be disappointed with the final product. He turns the phone around, trying to line his fingers up against the volume button to take the picture, wishing it was easier to get Qunari sized cell phones out of Par Vollen.

The front facing camera would be easier, but it takes shitty pictures, and he’s vain enough not to want to do that to his dick. Still, he’s been taking selfies since before front facing cameras existed, so he’s confident he can get the angles right. He puts his free hand back on his cock, not covering it up, but keeping his hand there for size reference. Lining the phone up, he presses down on the volume button.

The fake shutter sound goes off, but the phone, held with just his fingertips, slips from his hand and bounces off his bad knee, making him swear in annoyance. Stupid fucking bullshit made for humans. He’s picking it up off the floor when the text message sound goes off.

_Tease: Uhhh… Bull, wtf am I even seeing here? Is that like… a single testicle? Your kneecap? Help me out here._

_Oh fuck_.

Of _course_ the picture sent automatically. He scrolls up to see a slightly blurry picture of deep grey skin sprinkled with black hair. He has no fucking clue how, but he somehow managed to take a picture of a single one of his testicles. Sideways.

_Hot Dad: Fucking shit, sorry, I dropped the phone while I was taking the picture and my stupid phone sent it through. That’s my ball, not my knee though._

There’s no response, but he can see the little dots on the messaging app moving and then stopping like a fucking strobe light _._

_Hot Dad: You’re laughing, aren’t you?_

* * *

Dust is laughing so hard she’s having trouble breathing. The customers at the bar are looking concerned, and Bela is just looking amused, and like she’s waiting to get in on the joke. Finally gaining some composure, she grabs Bela by the arm and pulls her into the tiny back room where they stash their stuff and take a break from customers.

“Sweet thing, I know you’re waiting for dick pics. If this is the response, I’m already disappointed. Or concerned, not sure which.”

“Belaaaaaa.” She wheezes out, throwing her arms around her friend so she can lay her head on the other woman’s shoulder. “Mythal’s tits Bela, he dropped his phone taking the dick pic and accidentally sent me a pic of just one single ball.”

Hawke comes back to find them hugging and giggling helplessly and hustles them back out to the bar before the customers decide to mutiny without access to booze. Dust’s laughter has turned to hiccups, and she takes a swig of the soda she’s been nursing to try and clear them out before responding to Bull’s text.

_Tease: Sorry, maybe a little. I mean not that it isn't an impressive testicle._

_Hot Dad: You’re a little shit, you know that right?_

_Tease: Hey, I said sorry._

_Tease: If it makes you feel better I’ve got hiccups from laughing._

_Hot Dad: Why EXACTLY did you think that would make me feel better?_

Dust’s gotten her refills and new orders over with, so she figures she can disappear from the bar for another minute.

“Be right back!” She calls to Bela, scooting off to the women’s room and shutting the door. Is it tacky as hell to take naughty pictures in the bathroom of her work? Totally. Does she give a fuck? Not a single, solitary one. Leaning back against the door so no one can barge in on her, she unzips her shorts. She’s got on a garter belt underneath to hold on her thigh highs. It’s nothing fancy but she likes the look, especially with her bike boots. Sliding one hand into her panties, she takes a couple quick shots, not giving away anything new, but she figures it will get the point across.

Dust washes her hands quickly, and then heads out of the bathroom, choosing the better of the two pics to send to Bull.

_Tease: Is this a suitable apology for laughing?_

He texts back almost instantly.

_Hot Dad: Fuck yeah it is. Though now I kind of want to fuck you in your work bathroom._

_Tease: Not happening at work, but I’m sure we can find another bathroom. Anyway, get to work, this time I want your whole cock, not just a single ball. Remember, two tits = two testicles._

_Hot Dad: You should never be allowed to give pep talks, just so you know._

* * *

The regular camera isn’t going to cut it. Bull has already dropped his phone two more times, once perilously close to his dick, which is starting to get bored with the whole business. How is it this difficult to get a good picture of his cock? It’s not like he needs some kind of special angle to enhance the size. Usually he has to downplay minor panic attacks in that regard.

Bull takes a deep breath, and settles back on the bed, leaning against the pillows propped against his headboard. He opens up the latest shot of Dust with her hand down her pants, and begins to stroke himself off, firmly and with intent. The picture is definitely inspiring, and he’s half hard again in moments. He’s going to get fully hard, take a picture with the fucking front facing camera, and then finish jerking off like a grown man instead of some horny fuck boy.

Once his dick is hard again (and Koslun’s left horn, he’s going to be lucky if he doesn’t get a headache from all the change in blood flow) he keeps going just a little longer, letting the arousal and anticipation build heat low in his belly. The thought that Dust might get herself off to a picture of his dick doesn’t hurt. When he’s starting to climb the peak to orgasm he stops and picks up his phone again, switching to the front facing camera.

Why the fuck is everything blurry and grainy? He’s looking at his own body and he’s not sure he can even make out his dick on the screen. The lighting in his room isn’t _that_ low, is it? Fuck it. He tries to position the camera to the side a bit so there’s a little more contrast than just his dick against his belly, and snaps an experimental shot. It takes a while for the camera to resolve, and when it does the picture is… well not flattering is probably an exaggeration. It’s hard to tell it’s even a picture of a dick. Even with his long arms he can’t get a good angle to show enough of his body to be interesting and not just surreal.

This is fucking stupid. Twenty year old twinks on Tumblr spend entire days just posting pictures of their dicks, how is he, The Iron Bull failing? Frustrated, he drops the phone on the bed with a little more force behind it than necessary, and then goes to turn on every single light in his room, including the one in the master bath, just to try and get more contrast. He sits up, and this time hunches over a bit and sort of wedges the phone between his thighs to keep it in place, angling it to try and focus on just his dick and balls. The position does _not_ do flattering things to his gut, but screw it, that’s not the point.

After some more maneuvering, a little poking at the screen, and several rapid shots, he finally gets a picture that is (probably) recognizably a cock. He hopes. Picking up his phone again, he looks at the shot, growling with dissatisfaction. There’s no contrast for size, the angle is kind of bizarre, and the picture is grainy enough that even though his dick is flushing the telltale purple of arousal, it still looks strangely dull and blends against the skin of his stomach.

Fuck it. He’s sending it. It’s a picture of his entire dick, and he’s pretty sure at this point that a bad picture isn’t going to keep Dust from riding the Bull.

* * *

 “What are you frowning at, sweet thing?”

“That’s… a good question. I’m trying to figure out if this is a life ruining dick, or some kind of exotic eggplant.” Dust is frowning at the grainy, poorly lit picture, wondering if Bull has ever actually _taken_ a dick pic in his life. Also if he’d be offended if she gave him pointers, because this is just sad. Joking aside she’s fairly certain he has a _glorious_ cock - it definitely deserves better. _She_ deserves better. They _all_ deserve better.

“Ooh, I want to see!” Bela has a wicked gleam in her eyes that Dust recognizes. She needs to cut that shit off at the pass before her friend gets _ideas_.

“No!” She swats Isabela’s hand from her phone, shoving it into the back pocket of her shorts at the same time. “You know the rules, no looking at the pics without permission, unless they’re unsolicited.”

“Awww, well just ask him!”

“Oh sure ‘Bull, can I show my friend Bela your picture? I’m having trouble figuring out if it’s your cock or a vegetable and I'd like her opinion.’”

Isabela practically cackles, and Dust rolls her eyes.

“Poor baby, does he not live up to all your expectations?” Bela puts her arm around Dust’s waist, hand straying toward her ass in a way that isn’t even a _little_ subtle. She shoots Bela a knowing and unimpressed look. As if she didn't spend several formative years picking the pockets of hapless tourists in Antiva City. Bela gives a shrug that isn’t the slightest bit repentant and Dust just shakes her head.

“I’m… pretty sure he does? Just not when it comes to photography.” It’s mildly disappointing, but hardly a deal breaker. It isn't like she doesn't have an excellent imagination. She’s been getting herself off to the thought of Bull for days already.

“Well love, some dicks are just in person dicks. You have to _experience_ them to understand them.” Bela waves one hand in a dismissive gesture, gold bangles jingling.

“How philosophical.” Dust says, grinning.

“What can I say, I have depths.” Isabela shrugs, which does such nice things to her tits in her low cut shirt that Dust finds herself sighing a bit wistfully.

“I’m familiar with them, I’ve enjoyed exploring them.” She makes her voice nearly a purr and waggles her eyebrows suggestively. Bela laughs and swats her on the ass cheek not being shielded by a smart phone.

“Naughty girl. Go respond to your Bull before he gets a complex, you know how sensitive men are about their bits.”

Isabela’s right, it’s rude to leave Bull hanging. She’s just… not entirely sure how to respond.

_Tease: Well that’s certainly impressive. :)_

Oh Creators, she’s being reduced to smiley faces. Dust resists, with all her might, adding the eggplant emoji and the magnifying glass, because she’s not actually a terrible person.

_Hot Dad: No, it’s not, it was fucking terrible._

Oh thank fuck he knows it. At least he isn't sitting there proud of his dick pic skills, that would be tragic.

_Tease: I take it dick pics aren’t a normal part of your hook up process?_

_Hot Dad: Nah, you’re the first one to ask. And I wouldn’t send them unsolicited._

_Tease: Awww, a virgin! I’m so honored you chose me to be your first! Really, it’s ok, I just didn’t realize you’d never done this before._

_Hot Dad: Hey, practice makes perfect? Give me some time, I’ll get you something better, I promise._

_Tease: Well I’m not going to turn down more cock shots. Work is gonna get busy soon though, so don’t be insulted if it takes me a bit to respond._

_Hot Dad: I’ll try to keep my ego intact. Go be mean to some customers, I’m betting they love it._

_Tease: Well you’re not wrong. Talk to you later._

* * *

It had taken roughly ten seconds for Bull to regret sending the picture off. There are times when you need to take your time until you get it right, and Bull had rushed it. Now he needs to make up for it, which means he’s going to have to ask for help. He sighs and switches to a different messaging thread.

_The Iron Bull: Dorian, I need advice._

Dorian’s response is pretty quick, which Bull kind of expects. There's nothing Dorian loves more than playing subject matter expert, even if he’s talking out his ass. In this case though, Dorian knows his stuff. When he and Bull were having their “something” back in the day, Dorian had sent him a truly delicious variety of nudes and dick pics. The ‘Vint’s Instagram feed was basically a smorgasbord of artful pictures of himself, some of them just treading the lines of decency, and all of them perfectly lit and filtered.

_Big Guy: Oh please tell me it’s regarding your taste in clothing._

_The Iron Bull: Keep dreaming ‘Vint. I need to know how to take a good dick pic._

There’s a pause that leaves Bull sitting on the side of his bed, tapping his foot impatiently.

_Big Guy: You know, we’ve had some interesting conversations via text message, and yet this is the one that surprises me. Why on earth does The Iron Bull need advice on taking dick pics?_

_The Iron Bull: Because I just sent a pic to a new potential fuck buddy, and it made my dick look like an eggplant. And that’s AFTER I sent her the pic of just a single ball, cause I dropped the fucking phone._

Bull waits. He’s positive Dorian is laughing so hard there are tears, but he’s willing to endure the suffering. Suffering is a choice and he can refuse it blah, blah, blah.

_Big Guy: Oh Bull, I do believe I’ve pulled a muscle laughing. I must see these pictures immediately._

Bull scowls down at the phone. He should have known Dorian was going to be a dick (ha!) about all of this _._

_The Iron Bull: You do remember you have a boyfriend right? Who isn’t me? Who might not appreciate his best friend sending his boyfriend dick pics?_

_Big Guy: Bull, please, I've seen your dick before._

_The Iron Bull: That's kind of the point big guy._

_Big Guy: Cullen has also seen your dick Bull. We've basically all seen it. Really the only one who hasn't seen it is your new inamorata and she's probably languishing for lack of decent pictures of qunari cock._

_The Iron Bull: Fuck you_

_Dorian: Been there, done that, received the metaphorical celebratory t-shirt. Now do hurry, I have to work in the morning and don't have all night for your pornographic crisis._

Bull sighs. He’s wondering if this is really worth it. He’s still debating when another message comes through.

_Big Guy: Cullen says he wants to see them too._

Oh for fuck’s sake. Why is his life like this?

_The Iron Bull: Why the fuck am I friends with you two again?_

_Big Guy: Well for one thing, we’re very pretty, and for another you need people in your life who tolerate your puns and your awful taste in sweatpants. Now stop whining and send these pictures. This is the price for my help._

_The Iron Bull: Koslun’s sacred sac, you are such an asshole, and also a bad influence on Cullen._

WIth a sigh he selects both pictures he sent to Dust, and shoots them off to Dorian. When he’s done, he flops back on his bed. This all stopped being sexy the first time he dropped his phone.

_Big Guy: Oh Bull._

_Big Guy: Bull NO!_

_Big Guy: You have committed a crime against your own cock. As I have fond memories of it, I need to take you to task on behalf of your dick._

_The Iron Bull: Enough with the dramatics, just tell me how to do it right you little shit._

_Big Guy: The flattery is almost too much for my heart to take. Also, you’re being a complete and utter imbecile. Seriously Bull, you’ve got a Tumblr account, I'm sure you've seen hundreds of men post pictures of their dicks. The obvious solution is to USE YOUR MIRROR._

_Big Guy: I cannot believe you texted me over something so simple. But since you’re obviously GRAVELY in need of help…_

_Big Guy: Go in your bathroom, turn on all the lights, use the normal camera, and take a few shots until you find a flattering angle._

_The Iron Bull: Yeah but… aren’t mirror shots kind of douchey? You never use one._

_Big Guy: I’m an ARTISTE Bull. You cannot expect to be at my level so soon. Now stop whining and go take at LEAST three pictures, and then send them to me for review. Chop, chop. I’ll let you know which one to send._

_Big Guy: Oh and make sure to include one of your hands near your dick for size reference. Since she’s seen those in person it will add interest and visual appeal._

_The Iron Bull: How do you know she’s seen my hands in person? You don’t even know who I’m talking about._

_Big Guy: Don’t be ridiculous, Krem has told Cullen and everyone else about his motorcycle riding knight in black leather. It’s obvious you’ve decided to take her for a ride of your own. Now enough, go take pictures, Cullen and I are getting ready to watch the latest episode of The Blighted Dead._

_The Iron Bull: NO SPOILERS!_

Despite his annoyance at the entire process, it doesn’t take Bull long to get hard again, since he’s essentially been edging himself for the past half hour. He was anticipating something a lot more leisurely and pleasant, but a few quick tugs and he manages to get himself there again. He looks at himself critically in the mirror and backs up as far from the counter as he can. The first thing he did when he bought the house was remodel the master bath to fit his height and breadth, so the counter is way higher than average, and it takes a little maneuvering to get himself centered right in the mirror.

Once he’s far enough back, he gets his camera open and stands up straight, legs spread just a bit. He keeps his hand in the picture, his two good fingers at the base of his cock like before, and holds up the camera to try and get a good angle from the thighs up. His body looks pretty good, and the lighting is definitely better - his cock is identifiable as a cock, and holding his arms the way he is gives him an excuse to flex.

The problem is he doesn’t know what the shit to do with his face. Does he smile? Frown? Try and smoulder? Fuck it. Taking inspiration from all the Tumblr porn Dorian has reminded him of, he maneuvers his phone to cover his face. Not like his horns aren’t pretty fucking distinctive.

Bull does as Dorian instructed and takes a few shots, shifting a bit to get a couple different angles. He doesn’t want to have to take any more damn pictures if he can help it, so he might as well take a bunch now. By the fourth pic he’s actually getting into it a little bit. It's not like he’s shy, he’s got a lot worth showing off. He takes a couple more shots, trying to decide which position shows off his cock best, turning his hips and shifting his shoulders.

Finally, when he’s taken seven or eight photos, he heads back into his bedroom and sits on the bed, bringing up the gallery to look the photos over. Dorian isn’t wrong, the mirror shots are exponentially better. Bull _does_ kind of look like a douche, but he looks like a douche with “the kind of cock to make a porn star weep” as an old fuck buddy had once described it. And really that’s the point, right? He picks his three favorites and sends them off to Dorian. He strokes himself idly as he waits for a response, thinking about Dust and that damn red underwear.

_Big Guy: Much improved Bull. After some debate, we’ve decided on picture three, it’s the most flattering to all the parts of you included._

_Big Guy: Also, Cullen says we’re never to speak of this again, just so you’re aware._

_The Iron Bull: Hey, I’m not the one who dragged him into this, that was all you! But thanks Big Guy, I owe you a coffee or something._

_Big Guy: It had better be spiked - this level of friendship absolutely requires alcohol. You’re lucky I’d already had a glass of wine before you texted in the first place._

_The Iron Bull: Yeah, yeah, go watch your show, I have a hard on to take care of._

_Big Guy: And now the touching moment has ended. Good luck, Bull. I look forward to meeting your mystery woman on Sunday._

Shit, he may not have thought this through all the way. Dorian’s a good guy under all the sarcasm and narcissism, but he is also an undeniable little shit disturber. Now that he thinks about it, it's obvious Dust is too. Maybe his type is evolving past redheads to beautiful brats with dark skin and a penchant for leather. That's gonna be a little harder to find in Ferelden than redheads.

Bull is sure Dorian will be utterly charming on Sunday, but the question is will it work in Bull’s favor, or will Dust get the full story of his dick pic adventures, as well as hints about his and Dorian's long defunct relationship? Dorian can be weirdly protective, and he's unapologetically used that topic to scare off people he didn't think were “worthy of Bull's time.” It's sweet, in a really fucking annoying, boundary challenged, and passive aggressive way.

Oh well. Dorian will do what he wants, but Bull is pretty sure Dust isn't likely to be intimidated _or_ jealous, so there's not much point worrying. Instead he takes a look at the picture Cullen and Dorian chose. He thinks they’re right, even if they're a couple of assholes, it’s pretty flattering. His arms look great, it shows off his thighs, and there’s no mistaking his dick for a vegetable.

He opens up the text thread with Dust again and types up a quick message.

_Hot Dad: Hey, I think I’ve got something a little better for you. No eggplants involved._

After he sends the picture he lays back on the bed, waiting to see if he’s going to get a quick response. When his phone stays silent he sighs, ready to focus on getting himself off, finally. He reaches over to grab a bottle of lube out of the bedside table. Normally he doesn’t bother with it for just jerking off, but he’s been at it for a while and a little extra slide appeals to him. Rolling onto his side, he brings up the picture of Dust’s face, making it easier to imagine her under him while he touches himself. He pours a little bit of lube in his hand and begins to stroke himself slowly, but with a good amount of pressure, the way he likes it. With each stroke he pulls his fist all the way over the head of his cock, letting the foreskin slide up and over, occasionally flicking at his slit with his thumb.

It takes very little time at all before he can feel himself climbing back toward orgasm. He’s torn between wanting to stretch it out further, and wanting the the sweet rush of relief. Braced on his elbow, still holding his phone with his free hand, he flips to the latest picture Dust sent, imagining himself holding her up against the wall, his hand sliding between her legs. He can almost hear her breath catch, and that low voice of hers slide out in a moan. He imagines the first touch of slick heat under his fingertips and it’s too much, suddenly he’s right there, and tipping over the edge, coming into his hand as his own breath catches in his throat, heart pounding like he just finished a workout.

He cleans himself up, brushes his teeth and throws on some sleep pants before unlocking his door, just in case. His whole body feels loose, a day of self inflicted tension washed away by a damn fine orgasm. It’s a little early for bed, but he crawls under the covers, content to turn the lights off and strain his eyes slightly while fucking around on his phone.

Apparently he's more tired than he thinks, because he forgets to put his phone on silent. He wakes up to the sound of a text message coming in, going from asleep to fully awake and alert in a heartbeat, training he’s never been able to shake. When he picks up his phone there’s a notification from Dust, and despite the fact he should be sleeping, he unlocks his phone with a grin to read it. More texts are coming in even as he’s swiping through his lock pattern.

_Tease: Holy SHIT._

_Tease: I’m going home to give a prayer of thanks tonight, because your dick is a BLESSING._

_Tease: The name Bull is making even more sense now._

_Tease: I haven’t looked forward to Monday this much in YEARS._

_Tease: Shit, I wish I could show Bela this picture just to brag. I am going to do terrible, wonderful things to you. Several of them are probably illegal in some parts of Ferelden._

_Tease: ALSO HOW DO YOU BUY PANTS????_

By now he’s chuckling and torn between pride, arousal, and a tiny bit of worry that she might be inflating her expectations even higher than the spectacular performance he knows he can deliver.

_Hot Dad: I’m almost positive that question was a compliment._

_Tease: Hahaha, yes, sorry, it’s possible all higher function of my brain has stopped working. Are you sure you don’t want me to come over after work? I’m great at sneaking in windows._

That’s… both really hot and kind of alarming. Then again he knows at least ten ways to kill someone in unarmed combat, so he probably shouldn’t judge. He should _also_ resist the temptation to say yes, no matter how loudly his dick is encouraging him.

“Down boy.” He mutters to himself.

_Tease: That was 95% a joke, I promise._

_Hot Dad: More than 5% of me is interested, but I need to get to sleep, and that would be more than a little awkward if Krem woke up._

_Tease: Yeah, good point. Seeing your dad getting a blow job so good it makes his eyes roll back WOULD probably require therapy. I don’t want to traumatize my new friend._

_Hot Dad: You are killing me here, woman. I’m a good person, I don’t deserve this._

_Tease: Oh, I’m betting there’s a little bit of bad boy under the flannel. I plan to go looking for him._

Shit, he’s actually getting hard again. He checks the time on his phone, and groans. It’s 1:37 and he has to be up at 6.

_Hot Dad: OK, stop torturing me you little desire demon, I have to sleep._

_Tease: Alright, alright, I’ll be good._

_Hot Dad: Pretty sure that’s a lie, but I’ll take it._

_Tease: Well I’ll be good until I’m home alone and can get myself off in peace. But anyway, go to sleep old man, you have to be up early I’m sure._

_Hot Dad: E V I L_

She’s apparently decided to let him have the last word, because his phone stops chirping at him. With a sigh that's only slightly regretful, he silences his phone, double checks his alarm, and shifts to a more comfortable position. He's tempted to take care of his hard on with a quick rub and tug, but decides against it, forcing his muscles to relax instead. The faster he can get to sleep, the sooner he'll be one night closer to Monday.


	5. Foul Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem has concerns, Dorian and Cullen are trolls, and Dust finds out that little league social politics are complicated.
> 
> Pop culture references and salt ahoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters just keep getting longer and longer. The last chapter of this fic is going to be like 20k long at the rate I'm going. This was actually even longer before, but I finally said enough is enough and moved some stuff to the next chapter. On the plus side that means 1300 words of the next chapter are already written, yay. 
> 
> I am learning way more about baseball than I have ever desired to know. I have no idea what the hell I was thinking, I don't even LIKE baseball. Also in case I've never mentioned this, I don't have a beta reader so sorry for any glaring errors.
> 
> Anyway, thanks again for the comments and kudos, they mean the world to me. Its been an incredibly rough week and a half for me, so I'm just glad to be able to get some writing done. I hope anyone who's going through a tough time and reading this at least gets a smile out of it.

By Sunday morning Krem is practically vibrating with excitement. Pop and Cullen have cleared him to play, and he barely even feels the bruises still left from his fight. He did get a minor lecture about it from Ms. Bethany, but for once he didn’t end up at the counselor’s office, so he’s calling it a win.

“Pop, come on, we’re gonna be late!” He knocks just barely politely on his dad’s bedroom door. Krem’s not sure what the heck is taking him so long this morning, but he wants to get to the park and start warming up. Winning has gone from something he wants to do to something he _has_ to do, and that means plenty of time to warm up and get ready. They have to stop for donuts on the way which is going to slow them down even more. He’s fidgeting and considering knocking again when his pop opens the door.

“Chill out Krem-puff, we’ve got plenty of time. No need to be nervous for your first date.” Pop gives him a wink and ruffles his hair, making Krem roll his eyes. Then he narrows them as he looks at his pop. Instead of his normal brightly colored sweatpants (he has a collection, Dorian is always threatening to burn them) he’s wearing a pair of black track pants, his jersey is open over a tight black shirt, and he smells like cologne. His head and face are both freshly shaved, plus his horns look kind of shiny, like he polished them. Krem gives a long sniff and sure enough, the smell of horn balm is there under the cologne. Pop is still giving him a big grin, and Krem scowls harder.

“Pop, no.”

“No? No what?” Pop is surprisingly good at playing innocent, but Krem can see the way his ears twitch just a little.

“You’re all… fancy!”

Bull looks down at himself then shoots Krem a funny look.

“Kiddo if you think this is fancy, you might actually need to spend more time with Dorian.”

“You know what I mean! You shaved, and you polished your horns! You’re gonna try and flirt with Dust and you’re gonna embarrass me in front of the team.”

“What, your old man isn’t allowed to try and look nice when you invite a beautiful girl to your baseball game? That’s not very fair.”

“Ugh, you’re the _worst_ , why do you have to ruin things?” Krem turns and marches toward the living room to grab his gear. He’s not even totally sure why he’s so annoyed, but he is.

“Whoa, hey, slow down there Little Dude.” Krem does as he’s told, but he scowls about it. “You wanna tell me why this is such a problem?”

“I already told you, you’re gonna embarrass me. And we need to go, we’re going to be late.” He doesn’t want to look at his dad, doesn’t want to talk about any of it, just wants to get to his game.

“Cremissius.”

Crap. They aren’t going anywhere now. He turns to look at Pop who’s wearing his serious face, the one Krem knows means he can’t be moved until he gets the answers he wants. Krem squirms on the inside.

“I just…” Why _is_ he so mad? He likes Dust, she’s really cool, and she’s pretty, so why is it so annoying that his dad likes her? It’s not like Krem has a stupid crush on her or anything, getting crushes on adults is dumb, they’re too old. Plus he thinks he might already like Mari. _Like_ like her, even though they’re way too young to be boyfriend and girlfriend. Also Ms. Josie would _freak_. “I don’t know, okay? It just bothers me.”

“Do you want me to change?” Pop asks calmly. Krem kind of hates it when he’s like this, because he means it. He would change even though Krem doesn’t know what’s bothering him or why, and it’s all kind of dumb and embarrassing now because he feels like he’s being a baby. And he has to be honest because it’s Pop’s one big rule, and he doesn’t want to break it, because then Pop will be really upset and that’s absolutely the worst.

“Maybe... I dunno. But everyone’s gonna know why you’re dressed up once Dust gets there. They're all gonna ask me if she’s your girlfriend, and if she’s not then they’ll think it’s weird.”

Krem knows his dad has sex. It’s gross, but his dad explained it, and explained that it’s ok for grown ups, even if they aren’t really together, as long as they both want to. And sometimes his dad has a boyfriend or a girlfriend, and that’s different, because Krem meets those people and they hang out at the house, but Pop always introduces him first and makes sure he’s comfortable with them. But then they leave after a while, and a Krem usually doesn’t see them again, and he doesn’t like it. Pop explained that too, that sometimes people can be friends after they’re together, but sometimes they can’t, and it’s never Krem’s fault, but it still sucks.

_Oh…_

“I think…” He feels weird trying to figure out how to say it, how to tell his pop how he feels, because it’s kind of a weird feeling. “If Dust is your girlfriend then you’ll break up after a while and I won’t get to be friends with her anymore.”

For just a second Pop’s face looks like he got hit in the gut with a fastball, but then he’s back to his calm face again, and Krem’s stomach is hurting and he really wishes he hadn’t said anything. Pop takes a deep breath and nods his head.

“Alright, I can understand that. I don’t like that you were rude about it, but I can understand. I can’t promise that Dust is always going to be around, or that she’s going to stay in your life, Krem. We don’t really know her that well. But she’s not going to be my girlfriend, she and I already talked about that. So I can promise that I’ll do my best to make sure that I won’t interfere with you two being friends, okay?”

Krem really wishes he had kept his mouth shut, he feels like a huge jerk.

“I’m sorry I was rude.” He says, and his throat feels too tight. He means it, but he’s also just sorry about bringing any of it up at all. Did Pop decide he couldn’t date Dust because of Krem? He kind of wants to ask, but then he really doesn’t because what if the answer is yes? Or even worse, what if Dust doesn’t want to be Pop’s girlfriend because of Krem? Ugh, grown ups are the _worst_. Why can’t he just rewind and start over?

“Apology accepted Krem-puff. Let’s get on the road, and we can talk about this more later if you need to, okay?”

“Okay Pop.”

If Krem has anything to say about it they’re never talking about any of it ever again. He takes all the bad stuff and tries to shove it away. He’s got a game to win and he’s not going to mess up.

* * *

Bull has to give Cullen and Dorian credit - they work fast when it comes to trolling. He took a ten minute break from helping Cullen run the kids through their warm up to talk to Josie and Adaar about fundraising crap, only to come back to find a package waiting on his foldout chair. It has Dorian written all over the Pinterest quality wrapping, complete with fancy ass twine bow.

He bursts out laughing when he sees what’s inside, and notices Cullen looking his way with a shit eating grin from the field. He has no idea where the two of them found the raglan style shirt with an eggplant emoji on it, but he’s gotta give them points for being topical. Bull looks over to the stands to see Dorian lounging in a sunny spot in skinny jeans and a Chargers t-shirt cut up to make a crop top. Dorian notices him looking and waves like a prince greeting his subjects. Bull pulls his phone out, still chuckling to himself.

_The Iron Bull: You are SUCH a prick._

_Big Guy: I haven’t the least notion what you mean, dear man._

_The Ion Bull: Where did you even get this?_

_Big Guy: The internet is a miraculous place, and I have Amazon Prime. I cannot be stopped._

Bull can’t resist a joke, even at his own expense, so it’s only a matter of moments before he’s pulled off his jersey and t-shirt and is wrestling his horns through the neck of the eggplant shirt. He’s also impressed Dorian was able to find it in a size that would fit him, but then again it’s Dorian, so he probably shouldn’t be surprised. He’s still mostly bare chested when an amused voice startles him, nearly making him rip a hole in the shirt with one of his horns.

“If I had known baseball involved stripping, I’d have gotten into it way sooner. Isn’t this supposed to be a child friendly activity?”

Damn he’s getting soft if Dust is able to sneak up on him like that. Bull can’t help but grin as he manages to finally get the shirt over his head and pulls it down over his chest. It fits snug enough that he knows it shows off his muscles, and even with the dark sunglasses Dust is wearing he can feel the appreciative look she’s giving him. Then she actually gets a look at the shirt itself and he sees her struggle not to to choke on the iced coffee she’s drinking as she bursts into laughter.

“Oh shit!” She exclaims breathlessly when she’s finally back under control. She glances around guiltily and then relaxes when she sees there aren’t any children in hearing range. “That’s amazing. Where did you find it?”

“I can’t take credit, one of my asshole friends got it for me. He’s sitting over in the stands, the hipster with the cartoon villain mustache.”

They both turn to look, only to see Dorian standing up to make his way down the bleachers, graceful and sexy in a way that really shouldn’t be possible for a man on rickety aluminum stairs. Dust let’s out a quiet wolf whistle.

“Damn, he’s hot.” She turns back to Bull and shoves her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. She looks like she might have slept with her makeup on - black mascara and eyeliner a bit smudged, lips stained red from long lost lipstick. It’s way hotter than it has any right to be, especially combined with the cut off jean shorts that are short enough he can see the bottoms of her pockets hanging down from the hem. Her top is a faded black t-shirt with the collar and sleeves ripped out to turn it into a tank top, emblazoned with the Siren’s Call logo and the motto “Drop your anchor, raise your glass.” The arm holes are stretched enough to reveal the band of a dark green bra underneath.

Without all the black leather to cover them, he can see the way all her leg muscles move under her skin, and it’s very obvious she’s acquainted with a squat rack. Her thighs are a masterpiece to match her ass, and he tells himself he’s justified staring a little because she has a very gorgeous tattoo on her left thigh of a bare breasted mermaid. The colors are brilliant and the attention to detail impressive, right down to the golden hoops in the mermaid’s nipples. He’s going to get one hell of a nastygram from Elissa Cousland about the whole outfit, and definitely that tattoo if she catches sight of it, but Bull is having a hard time caring. Dust clears her throat pointedly and he brings his eyes back up to her face with a grin and a shrug.

“Did you actually tell him about your dick pic adventures, or is this just a highly amusing coincidence?” She sounds interested, not perturbed, which is a relief, especially after his conversation with Krem earlier. He’s going to have to talk to her about that at some point, which has potential to be seriously awkward, but at least he can avoid it until after the game.

“I told him. Actually I asked him for advice. We had a thing back in the day before Krem came along, so I knew he had experience in that department. He’s with my friend Cullen now, the blond over there.” He aims a thumb back at where Cullen is shouting encouragement to Dalish. “They uh… might have provided some guidance on the picture front.”

“It was sorely needed. We couldn’t let him disappoint you.” Of course that’s when Dorian finally gets within earshot. “Assuming you’re the Dust we’ve heard so much about from Krem?”

Dust’s face closes off a little when Dorian speaks, and it suddenly occurs to Bull that he didn’t warn her the ‘Vint was a ‘Vint. Considering the very traditional Dalish vallaslin she’s wearing, he probably should have given her a heads up. Damn, he is really off his game lately.

“Dust Lavellan.” She says, extending her hand to Dorian and giving him a firm shake when he takes it. She withdraws maybe a little bit faster than normal, but nothing really obvious. He’s hoping Dorian doesn’t notice, but that’s probably a lost cause. Dorian reads people almost as well as Bull, years of being trained to pick up social cues in the snake pit of Tevinter high society. “I feel like maybe I should send you a fruit basket or something.”

“Dorian Pavus, delighted to meet you.” Dorian’s smile is bright and gorgeous, and to Bull’s eyes, a little bit more predatory than necessary. “I’ve heard such interesting reports from Bull and Krem about you. And no thanks is necessary, I assure you, my dear. It was my pleasure to help him rectify such an egregious lack of artistry.”

Bull sighs mentally. Yup, Dorian noticed. His language gets all the more florid when he’s got his guard up. Bull’s beginning to strategize a way to defuse the building tension when Krem takes care of it for him.

“Dust!” He shouts, and bounds over to where they’re standing, full of energy and excitement. It’s a relief to see their conversation from the morning didn’t dampen his enthusiasm for having her come to the game.

“Hey Krem.” Dust says, grinning widely. “How’s my little Iron Chef? The eye looks way better.”

“I’m good, it doesn’t even hurt anymore. Whoa, cool tattoo!” He points to her thigh and Dust looks down, the tips of her ears going red, and yup, it’s still really damn cute.

“Uhh… yeah, I probably should have covered her up, she’s kind of R rated.”

“I wanna see!” Pipes up Dalish from behind Krem as the rest of the Chargers and Cullen come trickling over to their dugout. Dust looks mildly freaked out, as if she’s about to be surrounded by a pack of ill trained mabari instead of a bunch of ten and eleven year olds. Admittedly, sometimes Bull feels like there isn’t much of a difference himself, but her wide eyed look is pretty amusing.

She smiles tentatively at Dalish, who’s trying to get a closer look, but being blocked by the hand Dust has protectively over her thigh. Undaunted, Dalish points to Dust’s face instead.

“Dirthamen!” She exclaims, obviously delighted. Dust’s smile softens, obviously charmed.

“That’s right da’len.”

Dalish rattles off something in rapid fire Elvhen, and Dust nods, smiling and leaning down so Dalish can run one (no doubt sweaty) little paw over her face to trace the sharp white line across her cheek. The others are all gathered around now, chatting excitedly and trying to get a look at the tattoos. Dust is looking a little panicked as the crowd grows.

“Alright, you lot, back off and let Ms. Lavellan breath. None of you are old enough to be looking anyway.” The Chargers disperse a bit, at least pretending to leave the area. Except Krem, who’s obviously determined to stick close to his guest. Bull reaches into his duffel and finds a roll of self adhering bandage in his preferred shade of bright-as-fuck pink. He holds it out to Dust. “You can wrap it up if you’re uncomfortable.”

Dust raises an eyebrow at him but then takes it with a shrug, holding out her coffee for him to take. She makes quick work of wrapping her leg, covering up the more explicit bits of the tattoo. The bright color looks good against her dark skin. Cullen has stuck around, standing behind Krem and resting a hand on his shoulder. He shoots Bull an obviously impressed look while Dust is busy with the bandage, giving a thumbs up out of visual range.

“Alright, hopefully I can avoid getting arrested for corrupting any minors.” She trades Bull his tape for her coffee, waving it accusingly at Krem. “This is what happens when you make me get up so early Krem.”

Krem rolls his eyes and then grins. “It’s not my fault you stay up too late.”

“Oh excuse you! Some of us have to work you little freeloader!” She reaches out past Krem to hold her hand out to Cullen. “You must be Cullen. I’ve heard almost nothing about you except you have a hot boyfriend.”

Cullen blushes as he takes her hand, and Bull catches Dorian trying not to look pleased out of the corner of his eye. Such a fucking peacock.

“Um, yeah, I’m Cullen Rutherford, nice to meet you.” He shoots a look at Dorian that is decidedly unsubtle. “I’m going to go get some coffee, Dorian you coming?”

Dorian looks like the effort to suppress some kind of innuendo is actually causing him pain, but he finally shrugs his sculpted shoulders and takes Cullen’s hand, walking off toward the refreshment table.

“Speaking of coffee, I was promised both coffee _and_ donuts for being up so early.” Dust points down at Krem. “And no comments from the peanut gallery about what counts as early.”

Krem snickers, but points to her coffee in return. It’s mostly ice at this point, but it had obviously been a lot of coffee.

“You already have coffee! Why do you need more?”

“Kid, this was just my fuel to get here. If you expect me to stay awake and actually watch while you hit things with a stick, I’m going to need a steady supply. Also sugar.”

She shoots a sly glance at Bull and he grins back.

“Don’t worry, I remembered your order and saved you a donut. Couldn’t have you fainting from hunger.” He puts his tape away and grabs the brown paper bag he stashed her donut in, handing it over with a wink. She pulls it out and laughs, taking an unashamedly large bite. She licks a spot of custard off her lower lip and Bull is nearly twitching from the need to keep his expression under control in front of Krem.

“Good job, old man. Now Krem, lead me to the coffee and explain how this stickball game of yours works.”

Krem rolls his eyes, but leads the way over toward the food table, where some of the Charger parents are lingering, including Adaar and Josie. The two women are chit chatting with Dorian and Cullen, while throwing interested looks Bull’s way. He fights back a groan - he’s definitely going to get the third degree at work now. Josie, hopeless romantic that she is, will have hearts in her eyes and want details. Adaar, who’s putty in Josie’s hands, will relentless bug him for whatever details her wife wants. She’s _definitely_ going to notice his long lunch tomorrow and grill him about it.

Bull sighs and starts to walk toward the table, where Dust is being introduced. There are worse things than having friends who care about him and are interested in his life. He decides not to borrow trouble and enjoy the day, and the view of Dust’s ass in her shorts, counting down the hours in his head.

* * *

The only thing that saves Little League from qualifying as torture, in Dust’s opinion, is the cuteness factor, because the game itself is boring as shit. There are actually two games going on that morning, so there are plenty of small children running around in miniature uniforms, their parents cheering, milling around, or sitting in the bleachers. She can’t help but notice that the Chargers are a lot more diverse than the other teams, which are almost uniformly human and white. Meanwhile the Chargers have a showing of all the different races in Thedas, including the adorable little elf who went by Dalish, a dwarf named Rocky, and a “little” qunari girl as tall as Dust who Krem has an obvious and adorable crush on. Most of the team seems to go by nicknames of some kind, and she’s positive Bull is responsible for it.

It’s also a little weird to be sitting with a ‘Vint who she’s quite sure is both a mage and an Altus, a gorgeous Tal Vashoth woman who turns out to be Bull’s boss, and a lovely human woman from one of Antiva’s most prestigious merchant houses. Okay, no, it’s more than a _little_ weird, it’s actually verging on uncomfortable but it’s only a couple hours, and then hopefully she can bail and go take a nap. They’re surrounded by the other Chargers’ parents and guardians, but Dorian, Herah, and Josephine seem to be the ones most interested in her presence. The others shoot her interested glances and friendly smiles, but mostly focus on the game. Herah and Josie, turn out to be the parents of Mari, who is the team’s pitcher, as well as being Krem’s crush.

Still, it’s better than sitting surrounded by the excessively large number of shem parents around their little area, especially the women who’ve been giving her side eye since she sat down. They probably think they’re being subtle, but Dust is very familiar with the sensation of being talked about. She’s resisting the urge to do something inappropriate just to give them something to really be pissed about, because she doesn’t want to get Bull in trouble.

“So… do the Beckys always stare like that, or am I special?” She finally asks Dorian, giving a little tilt of her chin toward the worst offenders, a trio of human women, when they finally focus on the game instead of her. They’re all pale and remarkably put together for a 10 am game. A brunette, a blond, and a redhead, like some kind of trifecta of traditional Fereldan femininity. They kind of give her the creeps. Dorian snickers when he catches sight of the women in question.

“Oh, the Plastics?” Dorian asks, turning to wave at the women and causing a flutter as they all smile and pretend not to be eyeing Dust like something unidentifiable in their fridge. “What’s amusing is one of them is actually named Becky.”

“You’re shitting me!” Dust laughs.

“May Andraste strike me down if I lie. The brunette is Becky Trevelyan.” Dorian is grinning wickedly. “I’m afraid your appearance and the fact you’re sitting with the Mean Gays is all the cause they need to resent you.”

“Would that Becky Trevelyan be related to the Maxwell Trevelyan who jumped Krem with his friends?” Dust wraps her fingers tight around the warm metal of the bleachers underneath her, fighting down the urge to give the shem woman a piece of her mind, and possibly her fist.

“Ah yes, Maxwell is her spoiled little spawn. I’d feel sorry for the boy if he weren’t well on his way to becoming the shining example of the next generation of privileged bigots I spent much of my youth fighting with.” Dorian has one hell of a disdainful sneer, she’ll give him that. It works amazingly well with the mustache

“So they’re homophobic, have money, and I’m guessing the pointed ears or horns don’t help get on their good side?” She glances over at Herah for confirmation and gets a sour smile and nod in return.

“Got it in one. They’re all trying very hard not to look like bigots, when their shriveled little hearts just break at the sight of people who aren’t exactly like them.” It’s a little strange to hear such harsh, matter of fact words of condemnation from a woman with a voice like sweet honey. Herah Adaar sounds like she’d be a great singer, the kind that could break hearts with a simple balled.

“They love Dorian and Cullen because they fit their perfect image of cute gay boys kissing, and they can fetishize that. Dorian is just “exotic” enough to be hot but not threatening. Non human women in love? Totally not okay. Also you were automatically on the shit list because Bull is interested in you and not them. They all think he should want to fuck them, because who isn’t gagging for some tepid Fereldan pussy.”

Dust is very glad she finished her coffee or the row in front of them would be wearing it. She bursts into laughter and Dorian snickers beside her. Herah looks as pleased as a cat who just shredded a three hundred dollar sweater.

“Herah! Language!” Josie splutters, giving her wife a scandalized look. She catches Dust’s eyes and shrugs helplessly. “She is correct though. The majority of the other league families are human Fereldans and they have certain… prejudices.”

Not a surprise at all. Ferelden likes to tout itself as a bastion of freedom and independence since they’d thrown off the Orlesians a few centuries ago, but they just let their prejudice show in different ways. In her experience Fereldan humans acted as if they were so liberal and welcoming, but at the first chance they moved the goal markers for acceptance. Dust had learned a long time ago that no matter how she tried to fit in with them, she’d fail. Instead, she’s stopped playing their game all together. When it comes down to it, she sometimes thinks the obvious racists and bigots are easier to deal with, because she knows instantly to avoid them.

“Pfft, Jojo, they have _all_ the prejudices. The only reason they’re so sickly sweet to Dorian is because they all long to claim him as their Gay BFF.” Herah flings an arm around her wife, obviously not the least concerned about making waves. Dust likes her already.

“Ha! They shall be waiting until the Maker returns and beyond for that.” If anything Dorian’s sneer grows even more derisive, and she beginning to feel a little friendlier toward him. There’s still plenty of time for him to prove he’s a racist asshole, but it’s in his favor he’s friends with Bull and Herah. The qunari are probably the only race ‘Vints look down on more than elves. She can at least reserve judgment until he does something gross.

“What, you don’t want to do their makeup, give them fashion advice, and help them find love in a series of adorable montages?” She asks him, making her eyes go wide and innocent.

“Ha! Yes, of course, and then no doubt invite them back to my home for a threesome with Cullen and myself, since obviously they’d be the one woman in the _world_ I’d miraculously be attracted to.” Dust feels her own face curl into a look of disgust. The undercurrent of real bitterness in Dorian’s voice makes her resist the reflexive urge to ask if that kind of shit really happens. Of course it does, people are mostly assholes. It isn’t as if she’s not constantly getting invites from dudes who want a threesome with her and their girlfriend, just because she’s bi.

“Well, glad to know I stumbled into the right company.” She says, keeping her voice light. “Kind of makes me wish I still smoked, so I could have a cigarette in the girls room and really cement myself as a bad influence.”

“Ooh, did you make out behind the bleachers as well?” Dorian asks, following her example and lightening his tone. “I’ve heard that’s a very popular Fereldan activity.”

“Well I was in Antiva, not Ferelden, but I did actually. There really is a lot to be said for those little pleated skirts Chantry girls’ schools make you wear.” She gives a lecherous grin of remembrance, as Josie makes a choking noise to her right. Herah’s ears quite literally perk up and she shows off a mouth full of blindingly perfect white teeth as she grins.

“Do tell us more.” She purrs.

“Oh look, the inning is over. Herah, why don’t we go fetch some water for everyone, it’s quite warm!” Josephine’s face is flushed and Dust can’t help but grin at her - she obviously has some experience with the classic uniform herself.

“Josephine, you’re wearing a cardigan.” Dorian points out with amusement.

“Um… yes, well…”

“Stop teasing her, Dorian. Come on, kadan, we’ll go get some water to cool you off.” Herah winks at them as she stands and stretches, showing off almost seven feet of lean muscle in a pair of white linen shorts and a deep purple camisole that sets off her grey skin. Dust admires the easy elegance of the outfit, especially combined with the silver caps on her curling horns, and the beautiful, shoulder length twists of white hair. Bull’s friends are certainly an attractive bunch.

“So, making out under the bleachers at an all girls’ school? How scandalous!”

Dust laughs, shaking her head.

“Trust me, that doesn’t even come close to being the most scandalous thing I did in school. I didn’t even get caught once for that one.”

“Well what _did_ you get caught for?” Dorian leans forward intently, looking at her with a gleam of wicked interest in his eyes.

“Everyone loves the bag girl stories.” She says, shaking her head and smiling. Might as well go straight for the big finish. “They finally kicked me out when they found me between the legs of one of the student teachers, who happened to also be a lay sister of the Chantry. Sadly those ugly ass robes can’t really hide an entire other person.”

Dorian’s grey eyes go a little wide and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Wait, they kicked _you_ out instead of the teacher?” He sounds a little more scandalized than she expected. “How old were you?”

“I dunno, sixteen I guess?” Dust shrugs, rather regretting telling the story. She was expecting to titillate, not to garner pity. Suddenly she’s uncomfortable with more than the hard aluminum putting her ass to sleep. “I was a troublemaker and it was easier to just get rid of me than deal with a scandal.”

“Ah yes, scandal must be avoided at all cost.” There’s a kind of familiar bitterness to the tone of Dorian’s voice that makes her think he has even more experience with being swept under the rug than she has. They both sit quietly for a minute as children wander into different positions on the field, a tiny point of silence amidst yells of encouragement and chattering parents. All of it is accompanied by cheerful, child appropriate pop music playing from some portable sound system.

Dust is struck by a sudden, intense regret that she agreed to come. This isn’t her world, this isn’t where she belongs. She’s a bartender for fuck’s sake, her life consists of serving drinks, getting laid, and avoiding responsibility like the Blight. What is she doing at a damn children’s baseball game surrounded by people who probably think she’s trash, and planning to fuck some poor kid’s dad? The urge to just get up and run away is so strong she starts tapping her feet and jiggling her legs before she knows what she’s doing.

“Well, that quickly descended into the pit of conversational discomfort. What say we act like civilized adults, pretend it didn’t happen, and go down to get a better view for the next inning? Krem will be up to bat soon.” Dorian seems to have a lot of different smiles, but this one is nice, and surprisingly open, and she can’t help but return it.

“Anything to get my ass off this bench before it falls asleep. I’ve got plenty of padding, but there are limits.” She stands and copies Herah’s long stretch, helping to loosen muscles gone tense with discomfort. Dorian leads the way down their row, and holds his arm out for her to take when they reach the shallow stairs between the rows of benches. She takes it without hesitating, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. He’s got damn nice muscles for a mage. He turns away for a moment and then looks back at her with a smile that does his evil villain mustache proud. He leans toward her and speaks low in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. He may not play for her team, but he really is _alarmingly_ hot.

“You should take down your hair.” He says, then pulls back and gives her a conspiratorial wink.

“Huh?”

“Your hair, take it down from that ridiculous bun. Trust me.” She gives him a skeptical look. It’s not hot by the standards of anyone born north of the Amaranthine, but she has a lot of hair and wearing is down tends to leave her neck and back sweaty.

“I thought you weren’t playing to the gay BFF stereotype, why the sudden hair advice?” She’s genuinely a bit bewildered by it.

“That would only count if you were straight, which you’re obviously not, and it’s less advice and more a desire to make certain annoying people suffer mildly.”

Dust gives him another skeptical look, then shrugs and tugs at the hair tie that’s valiantly attempting to keep the wavy mass of white hair in place on top of her head. Stuffing the tie in her pocket, she shakes her hair free and tucks it behind her ears to keep it out of her face before taking Dorian’s arm again. He’s smiling smugly to himself, but to her surprise he keeps his arm held sturdily in place, as if actually providing support for her should she lose her footing. She wonders if he even realizes what he’s doing, or if he’s really just had that many etiquette lessons.

“You planning on telling me what this is about?” She asks as they reach the bottom of the stairs, turning right to walk toward the end of the bleachers and down to the ground.

“Merely me being a little naughty and hoping to irritate the Plastics. Both Solana and CousCous pay a great deal of money to pretend their hair is naturally their chosen color.”

“CousCous?” She asks, thoroughly confused.

“Ah, apologies. Solana Amell is the redhead, and Elissa Cousland is the blond. Or so they’d have you believe. CousCous is simply our affectionate nickname for her. She’s head of the league’s Parent Booster Association, and the most insufferable woman imaginable. Bull will no doubt get an snide and intrusive email about your appearance as soon as she has access to a computer and enough time to ensure the most passive aggressive language possible.”

“Oh.” Bull really should have said something if there was a dress code. That feeling of wanting to run away is spreading back through her chest. “I didn’t mean to get him in trouble.”

Dorian just laughs, obviously pleased with the situation, which is starting to make her more and more uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry, you haven’t. She has absolutely no power in that regard whatsoever. It’s a public park after all, as long as you aren’t wearing something that will get you arrested, there’s not a damn thing she can do, she just enjoys her imaginary sense of moral authority.”

“Okay… but I still don’t get the hair thing?” Little league social politics are way more complicated than she realized, or has any desire to deal with. Basically it just re-affirms her belief that most shems are nuts.

“Well you have beautiful hair, and I’m assuming it’s your natural color since keeping your eyebrows the same shade of white would be quite difficult. It will add just that little extra sense of annoyance to your presence here.”

Dust stops, pulling her hand out of Dorian’s arm and just looks at him, feeling frustratingly lost in a sea of weird, passive aggressive bullshit. _This_ is why she doesn’t date. Fucking is simple, no matter how complicated the physical calculations involved get. Emotions and social interactions are treacherous and uncomfortable.

“Look, no offense, but what the Void is your deal?” Dorian blinks at her, obviously startled by the question. Passive aggressive isn’t her style, she prefers to skip straight to the aggressive when possible. She grabs her hair tie back out of her pocket and starts pulling her hair back up as she talks. “If you’ve still got something going on with Bull, that’s not my business, but maybe just lay off trying to make people here hate me? I only came because Krem invited me and I didn’t want to disappoint him, not because of Bull. I’m not interested in joining some weird suburban gang rivalry. I just want to get through this and go home and take a nap, because I work nights and I’m fucking tired, so please save your shitty social politics for someone else.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, weight on one hip, waiting for the inevitable denials and protestations of innocence. People are all the fucking same, it’s all about what they can get out of her. Hopefully she can just get him to go back to gossiping with his friends and she’ll find some place to sit by herself until the damn game is over and she’s fulfilled her obligation to Krem and Bull.

“I’m sorry.” Dorian says simply, to her surprise. “You’re absolutely right, it was rude of me to try and drag you into our ridiculous nonsense rivalries, and terribly unfair.”

Dust actually has no idea what to say. Sincere (or at least sincere sounding) apologies aren’t really something she has a lot of experience with.

“I can be a spiteful ass,” he admits, looking both sheepish and regretful. “I wasn’t thinking about you, which is exactly the problem, so I apologize. I swear my intention wasn’t to make you uncomfortable, or to have you feel ostracized. And it certainly wasn’t to alienate you from Bull, who is simply a dear friend of mine at this point.”

She purses her lips, trying to figure out which of the many emotions she’s currently feeling that she wants to stick with. She decides relief is probably the most useful at the moment and uncrosses her arms, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, I accept your apology.” Dorian gives her a wide, cheerful smile, and it’s a little unsettling just how pretty he is when he’s not playing to type.

“Excellent. Now, shall we go get a closer view of the game?”

“Uh, are we allowed? I don’t want to interfere.” She also doesn’t want to take a ball to the face if one of the kids hits another ball right out of the field, as one had earlier, sending a surprisingly powerful hit right into the stands.

“It’s generally up to the coaches for each team, and I doubt Bull is likely to object. Cullen will, but it’s fine, we can ignore him.” Dorian holds out his arm once more, grinning cheekily, and this time she takes it after a moment’s hesitation. She’s not always big on giving people second chances, but Dorian seems sincere, and she’d really rather not fuck everything up by throwing a fit. With a smile of her own, she lets Dorian guide her toward where Bull and Cullen are standing, the width of Bull’s shoulders reminding her that there are benefits to forgiveness.


	6. Riding the Pine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull and Dust have "lunch." (AKA, smut, thousands of words of smut.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for all the kudos and the truly wonderful comments. If I were a dragon my hoard would be made of Ao3 comments. In case you're ever wondering, I don't respond individually because a) I have a hard time not spoilering things coming up, and b) I'm strangely obsessed with seeing a comment count made entirely of reader comments. What can I say, I'm weird. *insert shrug emoji* But trust me, I read them all and love them and they encourage me to keep writing about all these nerds.

“Wot’s got you all twitchy? You gotta piss?” Sera is in charge of their survey crew, and normally Bull is damn fond of her and her blunt talk and silly pranks. It’s not her fault he’s counting down the minutes until he can take off for “lunch” with Dust. Monday staff meetings at Adaar Engineering happen during lunch, because Adaar likes to make sure her people are eating, and to keep things casual. Luckily they’ve reached the stage where they’re done with actual business and are just eating and chatting, so not everyone in the staff room hears her. Unfortunately Adaar is sitting with them and does.

“You _are_ kind of fidgety.” Adaar points out, black eyes sharp with interest. Her ability to sniff out gossip at fifty paces is incredibly impressive and also occasionally deeply annoying. “You haven’t even touched your third sandwich.”

Like Bull, and most other qunari, Adaar eats a lot - between the two of them they normally polish off six or seven full size subs. In the interest of not actually being too full to fuck, Bull has kept to one sandwich, setting one aside with the thought of bringing it to Dust.

“Yeah, I'm actually meeting a friend for lunch at 1, so I’ll take my last sandwich to go. Just been trying to keep an eye on the time so I don't end up late.” He gives them both a casual smile. Sera shrugs and goes back to eating chips, but if anything Adaar’s attention grows even more focused.

“Have I met this friend?” She asks, voice the very epitome of false innocence, and he knows exactly where the conversation is about to go. “Maybe at a certain baseball game this weekend? Little elf with white hair, inappropriate tattoos, and an ass like glory?” Adaar’s grinning by the time she’s finished, all sharp white teeth and smugness. Sera looks back at him with interest, food forgotten.

“Ooh, you got pics?” Sera quickly abandons her chips in favor of turning to Bull with a demanding stare.

“None that I’m _sharing_.” Bull says, having trouble keeping some of his own smugness out of his voice.

“I do.” Adaar volunteers.

“Wait… what?” Bull asks, genuinely confused. When the Void did Adaar get pics of Dust? To the best of his knowledge, Josie and Adaar don’t share, so he can’t imagine Dust sending them nudes. His brain hits a speed bump at the idea of Adaar, Josie, and Dust together. He shoves the thought away fast - he may not be used to family in the traditional sense, but if he’s ever had anyone who filled the role of a sister it’s Adaar, and it makes him feel really weird to think about her sexually. Adaar is pulling her phone out, swiping at it, and then smiling, before showing it to Sera, who grabs it out of her hand for a closer look.

“Yes, please!” Sera giggles, grinning lasciviously. Then she sniffs, narrowing her eyes before turning to Bull. “Wait, is she elfy?” Sera asks, biting her lip and handing the phone to Bull.

When he see the picture, Bull’s eyebrows raise of their own accord, as do the corners of his mouth. Adaar somehow managed to take a picture of Dust standing with Krem after the Chargers won their game on Sunday, his helmet perched precariously on her head, both of them laughing. Seeing them together and happy hits him harder than expected, a weird ache in his chest that's both pleasant and painful at the same time. With a quick few taps he’s sending the picture to himself via email. It’s a great shot of the two of them, Adaar has a good eye for pictures.

“Bull?” Sera pokes him in the arm and he looks up. Her fingers are bony as shit.

“Eh? Oh, elfy. Don’t really know. I mean she’s got the tattoos, and she isn’t Andrastian, but she works at a bar and rides a motorcycle. Doesn’t really say elfy to me.”

Sera grins at him, teeth almost as white and pointy as Adaar’s

“That case, tell her when she gets done wasting time on subs she should call me for tacos.”

Bull laughs along with Sera, then shakes his head and hands the phone back to Addar, who’s grinning slyly at him. He stands up, grabbing his plate and some napkins, as well as one of the to go containers they keep on hand for extra food.

“And on that note, I’m leaving.”

“Have fun.” Adaar calls after him. Bull has no doubt that she and Sera know exactly what his “lunch” is going to consist of, but he doesn’t give a shit. He turns to wave and finds Sera making a slightly confusing but potentially obscene gesture at him. He laughs again and heads out before the two of them make him late.

Dust’s apartment is about twenty minutes from his office, and Bull is cutting it a little close by the time he gets there and finds a place to park. He grabs the sandwich and the cookies he saved for her, stuffing them into a paper bag he snagged from the office as well. He also pulls a couple condoms out of his duffle bag, tucking them in his back pocket. Dust seems like the type who probably keeps a stash, but condoms that will fit a dick his size aren’t something a lot of people keep on hand.

The complex she lives in is fairly small, probably about twenty units total, set up in a square around a nice courtyard with good size trees and a grassy area bordered with flowers. There are benches set up at strategic points that look like they’re clean and sturdy. The complex is probably a few decades old from the building style, but well cared for and certainly quiet during the day, which is probably why she chose it since she works nights.

Dust is in unit fourteen, at the back left corner of the square. It worries him a little to think of her on the bottom floor, with easily accessible windows and a parking lot behind her unit. It makes the back of his neck itch to think of how few safety precautions most apartment complexes keep in place. He has to remind himself that Haven is hardly known for its criminal activity, and that Dust is a grown woman who seems very capable of handling herself. _And hopefully me as well_ , he thinks with a grin. The door to the apartment is painted a deep green, with the apartment number in looping gold. He gives a quick rap on the door and steps back a bit so she can see him more easily through the peephole. After a few seconds he hears footsteps and a quick pause, and then the door opens to reveal Dust on the other side.

“Oh fuck.” Is all Bull can manage, because it really does reveal her - she’s standing there with her hair down, in nothing but a _very_ thin red tank top and a pair of black lace panties, grinning at him.

“That’s the plan.” She responds, shifting to the side and beckoning him in. She closes the door behind him and gives him a wicked smile, looking him up and down with interest. “Aren’t you a little formal for a booty call? I didn’t expect you to dress up just to get naked.”

“Not that I don’t think it’s a booty worth getting dressed up for, but these are just my work clothes.” He’s wearing a button up in a dusty rose check, with a dark grey tie and charcoal grey slacks. She tilts her head to the side inquiringly, and he notices for the first time she hasn’t got a lick of makeup on. Her eyelashes are as white as the rest of her hair, and it makes him think of snowflakes, especially combined with those icy blue eyes. She looks different without the makeup, more ethereal, and somehow more vulnerable. It reminds him a bit of Dorian, who once referred to his make up as a kind of armor.

“What happened to the flannel and jeans from the day we met?” Dust asks, breaking him out of his revery about cosmetics as defense mechanism.

“Oh, I was out in the field that day, checking out some client sites. This is for days I’m stuck in the office.”

“Huh, very grown up.” She says, giving him another admiring once over, before smiling slow and wicked. “Now let’s get you out of them.”

She stalks forward until she’s practically standing on his feet, running her hands up his chest to grab his tie right below the knot and tug him down. He grins and lets himself be tugged, still smiling when her lips find his; full, warm, and soft as velvet, the first contact is nothing more than a brush, a tease that makes him shift forward to chase after her when she withdraws. With a purring chuckle she moves back in, pressing a small kiss to each corner of his mouth before taking his top lip between hers, catching it between her own and flicking her tongue across one of the scars on his mouth. It’s surprisingly erotic and he wraps his free arm around her to press her close.

Her arms slip around his neck, holding them both in place with surprising strength. He lets his hand stray from her back, down over the curve of her ass, only to discover the panties are actually a thong, and there’s no fabric to separate his fingertips from the heat of her skin. Bull groans at the discovery, going to wrap his other arm around her, momentarily forgetting the bag he’s carrying. She pulls back with an amused noise, letting her hands slide back down his chest again.

“What in the Void is in that bag?”

“Oh, I brought you a couple surprises.” Bull responds with a grin.

“It takes a lot to surprise me, old man.” Dust says skeptically, but she’s still smiling.

“I’m wounded that you doubt me, little tease.” With a flourish he removes the cookies from the bag, carefully packaged in pink cling wrap, tied off with a ribbon.

“Ooh, Charger’s Cookies!” Dust stretches out her hand and makes a “gimme” motion with her fingers, which sets Bull laughing. He hands them over and she clutches them to her chest with a little wiggle of happiness and a smile that’s decidedly greedy. Her ears even twitch a little, and it takes every ounce of will that Bull has not to just grab her up and squeeze her, she’s so damn cute. It’s honestly a little unfair how she manages to be so adorable and hot at the same time.

“I brought you some lunch, too. Nothing fancy, just a footlong sub.” He pulls out the to go box and hands it to her, making sure to keep his face perfectly calm. “It’s roast beef.”

It takes a second and then he sees her eyes widen as she looks down at the box.

“You… just brought me a pun... made of food. You brought me a dick joke for lunch.” She sounds as if she can’t quite believe the words coming out of her mouth.

He’s grinning when she looks back up at him, face a study in mixed emotions. “What can I say, I figured you’d want to make sure you had plenty of iron in your diet.”

The mixed emotions dissolve into a pained face as she groans.

“Stop, stop talking right now, don’t you ruin this for me! I’ve been thinking about fucking you for days, do not besmirch this with more puns!” She moves past him toward an archway across from the front door, into what looks to be the kitchen. He watches her go, shamelessly enjoying the way her ass moves in her tiny underwear. When she disappears through the kitchen archway, Bull takes a moment to actually look around her apartment, which is clean and uncluttered.

The front door is set in the middle of one long wall of the living room, dividing the space into two areas. There’s a small couch and entertainment center to his right, and a little office space to his left, complete with a couple bookcases full of books, an armchair with a comfortable looking foot cushion, and a small corner desk. The kitchen entry is directly across from the front door, and from what Bull can see it’s chock full of natural light, and a lot bigger than he’d expect from someone who doesn’t cook. Past the couch and tv area is a rounded archway that leads to a small bathroom, and he’d assume, a bedroom. Hopefully he'll get a better look at the bedroom shortly, though he’d settle for the couch, or even a wall in a pinch.

“All right,” Dust says, wandering out of the kitchen with a half eaten cookie in her hand. She’s obviously trying to look stern, but the effect is utterly ruined by the cookie and being half naked “I put the dick sandwich away for later, so it’s time for you to get naked and make up for the puns.”

She gestures toward the archway and he heads that direction, dipping his head a little just to make sure he doesn’t knock his horns on the lintel, then makes a sharp left turn into the open door of her bedroom. It’s surprisingly large, with room for a king sized bed that’s been neatly made up. There is a large window spilling in sunlight through white blinds, dark green curtains pulled back on either side. Nicely framed nature prints are hung on the walls, and she has a white mirrored vanity covered in cosmetics and little decorations, even a small vase of wildflowers.

“This is really nice.” He tells her, turning to smile at her over his shoulder. She’s stuffing the last half of the cookie in her mouth and he can’t help but laugh at her slightly bulging cheeks. She shrugs and keeps chewing, wiping crumbs off her chest in a way that is so distractingly sexual there’s no way it’s an accident. Amusement quickly dissipates, fizzling out like water on a hot surface as lust takes its place.

“Thanks!” Dust says, bringing his attention back up to her face, where she’s licking her lips and looking entirely too pleased with herself. “I made my bed for you and everything.”

“I appreciate that.” He says solemnly. “I look forward to helping you mess it up again.”

With a smile, Dust sways toward him, crossing the few feet between them, and reaches up for his tie again. This time she doesn’t grab it, but carefully begins to pull the knot out. Bull lets her, more than willing to let her take the lead if she knows what she wants. What she wants seems to be to undress him, because the tie hits the floor, and then she’s moving on to his belt, deftly unbuckling it and smoothly pulling it from the loops in his slacks. Done with his belt, she drops to her knees, and Bull can’t help but suck in an audible breath at the sight. It’s even more impressive because she does it while staring straight into his eyes, not even hesitating as she runs her hands up his thighs to unbutton his pants.

“Just so you know, now is the time to object if you don’t want me to suck your dick like a melting popsicle.” The look on her face is undisguised want, and Bull’s head is almost spinning with it, his cock twitching while her hands rest on his hips.

“No problems here.” He gets out. Apparently that’s all the motivation she needs, because his pants and underwear are down around his knees, his shirt pushed up and his half hard cock getting more interested by the second. Dust lets out a sound that might be a whimper before using her free hand to run sharp nails down the inside of his thigh. She leans forward and he feels the wet heat of her tongue lap up his length from the base to the tip, her face delighted. He lets out a moan, resisting the urge to reach down and grab her hair.

“Shit, no wonder you like baseball, you’ve been hiding a damn bat in your damn pants.” She’s grinning as she looks up at him, eyes bright with lust and mischief.

“Alright, who’s corny now?” He manages to say, though his voice has gotten a little rough with arousal. She just chuckles and runs one finger over the head of his cock, carefully tracing the rim of his foreskin, making him ball his hands into fists to maintain control.

“Mmm… Isabela was right though, this is definitely an in person dick.”

He lets out a laugh that turns into a groan as she runs her thumbs down the crease between his thighs and his body, skirting his dick entirely.

“I’m not sure what Isabela knows about my dick, but I’d be ok with _you_ getting a little more personal with it.” Dust laughs and gives his thigh a quick pinch.

“Sit down on the bed, I’m gonna need a better angle.” Bull shuffles over to the side of her bed and manages to sit down without collapsing. It’s lower than his own bed, and he’s got to stretch out his legs a bit, but he’s down low enough to make a blow job easier with their height difference. Dust crawls over to the bed on her knees, and _fuck_ if it’s not the hottest thing he’s seen in ages. She leans down to pull off his shoes and socks, shoving them off to the side before pulling off his slacks and underwear. Once he’s down to just his shirt, she slides between his legs, running her hands up his thighs, squeezing his muscles and making appreciative sounds. He flexes, more for control than to show off, and she leans down to press a kiss against the inside of his right thigh, just above the knee, following the lines of muscle with her tongue, eyes closed in concentration.

“Fuck. Your mouth is a fucking _crime_.” That earns him a low chuckle, muffled against his skin. She keeps working her way up, silky hair falling against the skin and adding more sensation as her nails drag gently up and down his outer thighs.

“How do you feel about biting?” Dust asks, looking up at him from the corner of her eye, breath hot against his wet skin.

“Good. _Really_ good.” He fists his hands into the comforter on the bed to keep himself still, and Dust’s smile flashes up at him, teeth white and wicked between kiss reddened lips. Then her teeth are sinking into the meat of his thigh, biting down hard as she sucks the skin, tongue pressed firmly against the captured flesh. She begins to move up the length of his thigh, alternating soft kisses, wet swipes of her tongue, and those sharp, deliciously painful bites.

When her cheek is a mere breath from his balls, he can’t help but reach out and stroke his hand over her hair, pushing it out of the way to see her sucking at his skin. He’s got plenty of self control, but it’s been a few months, and shit if she isn’t managing to push a lot of his buttons all at once. One of her own hands comes up to cover his, and for a moment he thinks she’s objecting, until she presses on his fingers, urging him to fist his hand in her hair.

“Mmm… like that is it?” He asks, making his pleasure obvious in his voice. She pulls back from his thigh to give him a slow smile, but says nothing as she turns to sink her teeth into his opposite thigh, mouth beginning to wander down across his leg to his bum knee. He has to release his grip so she can move, and he wonders how she’ll react to the scarring. His tension lessons when she simply runs gentle fingers over the curve of his knee, then presses a kiss to the worst of the scars, a three inch crescent of dark, rough flesh, where a piece of shrapnel embedded itself during a surprise attack. He’s grateful when she doesn’t say anything, just lifts her head up, licking her lips and focusing all her attention on his cock. Talking about war wounds is a definite boner killer, and her teasing has gotten him fully hard - it would be a shame if they had to start all over again.

Bull has gotten a lot of blow jobs in his time, and given almost as many. He’s learned to recognize the difference between a perfunctory bit of oral sex out of a sense of obligation, or a genuine desire to please a partner. But he’s also familiar with a blow job given as much for the pleasure of the giver as the receiver, and damn he loves those. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds to realize Dust is in the last category. With a pleased noise she wraps one hand around the base of his cock, the other hand reaching down to gently stroke his balls as she wets her lips and presses a kiss to the crown. She sucks him into her mouth to run her tongue over the coronal ridge, her lips soft and plush, wrapped tight around him as her tongue swirls, flicks, and laps at him.

When he buries his hands in her hair, Dust moans her approval. When he fists them until he’s pulling none too gently, her sees her ass wiggle as she presses her legs together as if searching for relief. Fuck, there are so many things he wants to do to her that his brain is quickly short circuiting between the incredible feel of her mouth on him, and the images running through his head of her legs bent over his horns with his face planted between her legs.

Pulling off of the head of his dick with a filthy wet sound, she rearranges her hold on him until it’s just her forefinger and thumb holding him at his base, fingers not actually meeting around his girth. She begins to lick at him, just like the popsicle she compared him to earlier. He keeps his hands buried in her hair, but follows her movements rather than trying to control them. Once he’s apparently wet to her satisfaction, she shoots him a wicked smile before shifting forward and sucking him back into her mouth, moving steadily down while her hand comes up to meet her lips, twisting it around the wet skin of his shaft. The hand holding his balls shifts down until she’s stroking them with her thumb, while the rest of her fingers press behind and below them, stimulating his prostate from the outside.

His fingers clench tighter in her hair, and he knows it’s got to hurt, but she just pulls against him to lower herself even further down, until he can feel the head of his cock slipping into her throat. She doesn’t manage to take all of him, but it’s closer than he’s come in a long time, and he actually growls before he can stop himself, prying one hand out of her hair to stroke against her cheek. She’s pulling up and off again after a few more moments of delicious torture, drawing in a shaky breath and looking up at him with eyes gone wide and dark. He barely has time to draw in a shaky breath of his before she’s leaning down again, taking the head of his dick back in her mouth, rubbing her soft, red lips against it, licking and sucking as if he’s the most delicious thing she’s ever had her mouth on.

“Fuck that’s good.” He manages to get out, finally remembering he can talk, and provide encouragement in the form of something other than incoherent sounds. She lets out a soft sound, a whimper or a purr or who the fuck knows, and he can feel it down to his balls. She takes her hand off of his cock, letting her mouth and his hardness do the work, reaching over to squeeze his thigh as she continues to alternate pressing behind his balls and gently squeezing them. Her nails dig in sharp to his skin, and the little bite of pain just adds an extra note to the experience, heightening the pleasure of it all. He keeps one hand buried in her hair, the other wrapping around the back of her neck, feeling the cool dampness of not quite dried hair against the back of his fingers. Dust’s hips and ass are shifting as her mouth explores him, and he’s fairly certain it isn’t even voluntary, she’s just getting off on what she’s doing.

“Shit, it’s so hot the way I can tell you love this, love making me crazy with that gorgeous mouth of yours. Fuck you feel _amazing_.” He tightens his fingers on her neck, letting his nails scrape lightly against her skin and she pulls off of him with a desperate whine, her whole body shuddering.

“Bull…” It’s barely more than a whisper, her voice rough from his cock down her throat, and that’s all he can handle. He’s got his hands under her arms, picking her up and pulling her into his lap, her body pressing his cock against his stomach, bringing his mouth down against her for a wet, messy kiss. He can taste a lingering hint of chocolate from the cookie she ate, mixed with the salty flavor of his own pre-come, and it makes him growl again. She pulls back from him, panting, clutching at his biceps.

“For the love of fuck that noise you make is hot.” Her mouth is back on his before he can do more than huff out a quick laugh. Normally he tries _not_ to do the growling thing the first time, he’s been told it’s kind of creepy, but then again he’s normally not coming off of a two month dry spell with a woman whose mouth would be condemned as a sin by the Chantry. She’s got one arm flung around his neck while she shifts her hips against him like she’s riding him, her fingers fumbling at the buttons on his shirt while he fucks into her mouth with his tongue. At the rate they’re going he’s going to end up rubbing one out against her before he gets her naked, and that just won’t do.

Seeing as she didn’t object to being picked up the first time, he slides his hands under her ass and shifts her until she’s on her back on the bed under him. She’s heavier than she looks, her whole body tight with thick muscle, cushioned beneath skin and a soft layer of fat. The feel of her body under his hands would be enough to drive him mad all on it’s own. He rears up onto his knees and makes short work of his buttons, tossing his shirt in the general direction of the rest of his clothes. Dust reaches down to grab at the hem of her tank top but he catches her wrists, lifting them away and pressing them to the bed on either side of her head.

“How do you feel about having your clothes ripped off?”

“Good,” she breathes out, the word almost a moan, accompanied by a restless shifting of her hips under him. “ _Really_ good.”

He grins in acknowledgment of his earlier words, and then he’s tearing her little tank top right down the middle, growling entirely on purpose this time. Dust gasps, back arching up toward him, her breasts trembling with the movement. Unable to resist he leans down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth as he’s been wanting to do since he first got her pictures. She makes a desperate, keening noise as he sucks, bucking her hips up until he lowers himself down enough to trap her in place under him.

“Bull, fuck, _Bull_.” He switches to her other nipple, nipping oh so gently at it before looking up to meet her eyes, and pulling off with a grin.

“Yes, did you want something?”

“If you don’t put a condom on and fuck me I swear I will kick you out of this apartment naked and hard, don’t think I won’t.”

“So mean.” He laments, shaking his head as she glares hazily up at him, her lips and the tips of her ears both red with arousal. “All that teasing and you rush right to the end? Doesn’t seem very fair.”

He takes one hand away from her wrist and slides it down her body, stopping briefly for another pinch of her nipples, tugging at the little hoops that replaced the jewelry from the previous week. She bites her bottom lip and shuts her eyes tight as he makes his way down to her hip. With a quick press of his thumbnail into the flimsy lace, he rips one side of her thong, the force of it lifting her hips slightly before he repeats the process on the other side.

“Oh FUCK!” And this time it’s a shout, and damn it’s nice to hear someone lose it and get loud. When he has people over to his place they stay quiet because of Krem, and when he goes home with someone else it’s usually late enough that they don’t want to risk pissing off the neighbors. Apparently Dust isn’t particularly worried about noise complaints. “Bull, dammit, fuck me!”

“Demanding little tease.” He murmurs as he leans down to lick and kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulder, mindful of his horns. “You dish it out but can’t take it.”

Dust digs the nails of one hand into his back, the other coming up to wrap tight around his horn. Before she can scold him again, he shifts over so he’s pressed up against her righ side instead of laying on top of her. He slides his hand under her right knee and arranges her leg so that it’s draped over his thigh, continuing to suck at her neck as he presses his hand between her legs. The full length of his hand covers her almost completely, the ball of his hand pressing down gently on her pubic bone, his fingertips extending down almost to her ass.

There’s a soft tuft of white hair right above the slit of her labia lips, the rest of her hairless, whether by design or genetics he isn’t sure. She moans loudly as he presses his hand down to apply indirect pressure to her clit, and he can feel the vibration against his mouth as he sucks at the soft skin of her throat. For a moment he just enjoys the warmth and anticipation of her beneath his hand, before letting his middle finger slide between her lips, circling gently around her entrance.

She’s sopping wet, and the stuttering cry she gives when he slides the tip of his finger inside her has his already painfully hard cock twitching against her hip. Abandoning her neck, he props himself up on his arm so he can kiss her mouth again, swallowing the sounds she’s making. He keeps the kiss soft and gentle, nothing but an occasional flick of tongue to mimic the movement of his finger as he works in and out of her, a little deeper each time. She clenches around his finger, but shifts her hips, obviously asking for more, so he adds another, softly circling the pad of his thumb around her clit as he buries his fingers to the last knuckle inside her.

By the time he shifts to get a third finger in, Dust is starting to mutter things in what he thinks is Elvhen, but it’s slurred as she kisses him, biting at his lip and pressing her tongue into his mouth in an echo of the rhythm he’s setting between her legs. She’s clutching his horn so tight he’s fairly certain he’d have trouble moving his head away, and her nails are scoring across his back in long, stinging lines that feel fucking amazing. He’s so hard he’s almost light headed, drops of pre-come smearing against Dust’s bronze skin and the engorged, purple grey flesh of his cock.

“Bull, fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me_.” The litany manages to come out in Trade as she turns her head a bit to break the kiss. “Condoms in the nightstand, get your dick inside me before I die.”

There’s no way in the world he’s going to be able to tease any longer after that. He pulls his fingers carefully from her, holding them up in front of his face so he can lap at the salty fluid soaking them where she can see. The whimper she gives is high pitched and desperate, and he chuckles wickedly when she closes her eyes and bites her lip in response. Bull opens the bedside drawer before he remembers he brought his own condoms, only to discover a neatly arranged selection of brands and sizes, including XXL Magnums from the same brand he prefers. He gives a noise of satisfaction before grabbing one and pulling it out. There’s also a couple of carefully sealed bottles of lube, and he grabs one just in case.

“I figured I’d need to bring my own.” He tells her as he rips open the condom package with only slightly slippery fingers. Dust gives a laugh that’s pure sex, legs spread wide so he can see the wetness glistening on her skin, her hands sliding over her body to squeeze her breasts, pinching her own nipples while she keeps her gaze locked on his.

“Not my first rodeo, sugar. The Siren gets a lot of vashoth customers. I believe in being prepared.” She grins, obviously not the least bit ashamed, and he thinks that might just ratchet her hotness factor up to somewhere around “surface of the sun.” He loves it when people are comfortable with their bodies and their sexuality, makes it so much easier to give them what they want and need.

“Hey, works for me, at least you aren’t pulling the ‘oh, how will you ever fit?’ nonsense.” Rolling on the condom is a brief distraction - his hand on his cock and the slight lessening of sensitivity a dual edged kind of relief. Applying some of the lube, just to be safe, is enough to have him gritting his teeth.

‘Oh, it’ll fit.” She says, shifting back a bit on the bed, pulling her knees up so she’s spread even wider before him. “I spent most of the week practicing. You’re a little bigger than the toy I’ve been using, but not much”

The mental image of her fucking herself with a qunari sized dildo is so intense he has to wrap his fingers tight around the base of his dick until he can get himself back under control. When he can form coherent words again, he’s definitely getting more details on that toy. By the time he thinks he’s got himself in check he’s growling again, unintentionally this time. He shifts between her legs, sliding one hand up the back of her thigh to hold her knee wide, as he uses the other to maneuver his cock into place, pressing just the head inside her.

Dust sucks in a breath and releases it in a high pitched cry, head falling back to show the beginning of a spectacular hickey on her neck. She flexes her stomach muscles, thrusting her hips up to try and take him deeper, but he grabs her other leg, intending to hold her still. To his surprise she ends up stretching her legs up with incredible agility and resting her heels on his shoulders, not even brushing his horns in the process. That gets her exactly what she wants as Bull loses the tenuous control he's been clutching at and slams into her, hilting himself in one long stroke.

“Yes!” She shouts, voice nearly a sob. “Fuck yes, just like that, fuck me!”

He’s not about to deny a request like that, and he begins to move, pressing hard into her on each thrust, not too fast, but enough to have her tits bouncing beneath him. He shifts forward until she’s bent nearly in half under him, apparently not the least bothered by the situation. Bracing one arm on the bed, he rests most of his weight on it so he can reach down and pinch at her nipples. He wishes he could get his mouth around them, but there’s no way he can bend that far. Instead he turns his head, mindful of his horns, and presses an open mouthed kiss against her calf.

“Faster!”

Fuck, she’s going to kill him. He rears back up to give himself more leverage, pulling her legs down from his shoulders to wrap around his waist. In the new position he gives her what she wants, beginning to piston in and out, his balls slapping against her ass every time he slides all the way inside of her. Her breathing is ragged, starting to hiccup as she clings to him with her legs.

Bull brings his right hand down to rub over the little patch of hair above her slit with his thumb, before slipping it between her folds to once again press against her clit. It’s engorged with arousal, smooth and swollen and round, and he’s less gentle this time, applying pressure directly as the sounds she makes become a chant of his name, interspersed with “please” and “fuck” and “good.” Her rhythm as she brings her hips up to match his thrusts grows irregular. With his weight on his knees instead of his arm he’s free to reach down to tweak her nipples, pinching and tugging the hardened points and collecting little exclamations at the stimulation. She brings both hands up to clutch at his wrist, nails digging in tight, but not trying to pull his hand away from her..

“Come for me baby.” He commands, and he’s not sure how clear he is, since his voice comes out a deep and uneven. “Let me feel you, you’re so fucking tight, I want to feel you come on my dick.”

It isn’t quite instant, but with a few more hard thrusts, and steady pressure on her clit, she does just that, arching her back and squeezing him so tight between her legs that he can’t keep up the pace. She lets out a long, loud wail as she comes, the walls of her cunt tightening like a vice around him as her nails stab into his wrist where she’s still clutching at him. He lets up on the pressure against her clit, just circling slowly until her legs loosen, leaving her trembling and spent.

Bull lowers himself down until his elbows are braced on the bed on either side of Dust’s shoulders so he can kiss her, slow and soft, all lips and breath this time. Her arms go around his back, stroking this time instead of scratching.

“Keep going,” she murmurs, taking a moment to catch his lower lip between her own, slipping the tip of her tongue along it. “Keep going, I want to feel you too.”

Her voice is barely more than a whisper, her eyes unfocused and her pupils blown wide, and she’s one of the single most gorgeous sights Bull has ever seen. He’s close himself, the little aftershocks of her orgasm squeezing him so perfectly. He lets his thrusts grow lazy and slow, but still deep, and Dust makes encouraging noises every time he bottoms out. She murmurs encouragement in his ear, pressing kisses across his face and even pulling herself up to nibble his earlobe when she speaks. The words don’t resolve into anything like sense, but the honey over gravel quality of her voice and the feel of her soft lips against his skin is all he needs. He can feel his balls tighten and he slows until he’s pressed deep inside her, barely moving but just letting the pressure of her body do the work.

His orgasm builds like the slow, heart fluttering climb of a rollercoaster. For a moment, pressed tight inside her with her muscles clenching around him, he hangs at the peak, locked in almost painful pleasure, balanced on the precipice before his orgasm hits. When it does, the pleasure changes to something hot, and fast and intense, driving him to press hard against her, buried so deep he can barely tell where she ends and he begins. He comes with a loud groan from deep in his chest, and Dust makes a sweet, wanton sound as if in sympathy as his dick pulses inside her.

Dust is still making soft noises and kissing whatever part of him she can reach when enough blood circulates back to his brain to realize he’s probably crushing her a bit. He pulls out of her carefully, and she makes a little face that might be discomfort or annoyance, it’s hard to say. A hand on her waist to hold her close and he flips them so she’s laying across him as he sprawls out on his back. It gets him a tired chuckle from Dust, who settles down with her head resting on his chest, both of them damp with sweat. She reminds him of a giant house cat, white hair everywhere, eyes half closed with contentment, happy to stroke him now instead of clawing.

It’s been awhile since he’s been with anyone with quite that much hair - he’s forgotten how pleasant and yet annoying it is, the soft brush of it against his ribs contrasted with the strands struck in his stubble and tickling his ear. Still, it’s oddly comfortable to have her weight pressing against him, and she’s pleasantly curvy, no protruding hip bones or razor sharp knees like the last guy he had sex with. When he strokes his hand down her back and squeezes her ass, it’s pure, lazy enjoyment.

“You have _officially_ earned your puns, old man.” She says against his chest and he smiles.

“Glad to hear I lived up to expectations.” He mumbles. His arm feels like it weighs a ton, but he brings it up anyway, stroking her hair and receiving a happy sounding sigh in response.

“Definitely. As soon as my bones grow back we’re scheduling another lunch appointment, I _do_ need more iron in my diet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note on safe sex - canonically Thedas seems to have STIs, but they're minor and easily healed. As such, it's less crucial for a condom to be used for oral sex, even with casual partners. Primarily they're for pregnancy protection (as unlikely as a qunari/elf pregnancy seems, neither Bull nor Dust would take that particular chance.) 
> 
> Since we do NOT live in Thedas, please do not use fanfic as the basis for sex education! Condoms and dental dams are your friends.


	7. Peanuts and Cracker Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's coming to dinner? Basically a whole lot of fluff and smut, with a tiny hint of plot in the distance.
> 
> (Also did you know it's peanuts and cracker jack, no s? I did not, but my husband did, and I'm still mad about it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, an update, what is even happening????
> 
> Sorry friends, I did not die tragically, just got really busy, had some writers block, and then also, there was summer, which is gross and not conducive to productivity. BUT, at least I give you a chapter so long I should have split it, but what fun would that be? So have like 12.5k words of more self indulgent nonsense.
> 
> If you've ever wanted a better idea of what Dust looks like, [I grabbed some nice screenshots of her in game](http://imgur.com/a/WH038). Minus the scar on her cheek, which she doesn't have in this AU, this is her. (Notice there are only pictures of her face because the default elf body is NOTHING like Dust's.) Also, Dust's entire look in this fic is greatly inspired by Usagi from Babs Tarr's [Bosozoku Sailor Scouts](http://babsbabsbabs.com/post/47438704325/bosozoku-sailor-scouts) (Usagi is the one in front if you aren't familiar with Sailor Moon.)
> 
> I spent an utterly ridiculous amount of time looking at pictures of gardens and housing floorplans for this chapter, because I'm that kind of weirdo. Bull's "grotto" was inspired by [this amazing garden space](http://www.finegardening.com/grotto-garden-pennsylvania), which I love and now have as the background on my laptop.

Spending her night off having dinner with a fuck buddy isn’t exactly unheard of for Dust - after all she actually considers the “buddy” part of fuck buddy to be important. On the other hand, spending the evening having a homemade meal at her fuck buddy’s cozy suburban home _is_ pretty unheard of. Add the fact she’s also having dinner with said buddy’s eleven year old kid and it reaches a whole new level of strange. When said eleven year old is cooking, and from the smell of it making one damn fine paella, things have definitely boarded the train to Weirdville, with a stop in What The Fuck Junction.

Shaking her head, she knocks on the front door, trying not to sniff at the air like a mabari on the hunt. The scents of seasoning she hasn’t smelled in years are making her nose twitch and giving her an odd ache in her chest that takes a minute to identify as homesickness. She shakes her head again to try and banish memories of sun baked red tiles and the distinctive salt tang of the sea. The door opens a moment later to reveal Bull grinning down at her - he’s wearing a bright pink tank top that declares “thick thighs save lives” and a pair of beat up jeans, and she can’t help but grin back. Dust has discovered over the last couple weeks of “hanging out” that she’s incapable of staying serious when Bull smiles at her.

“Hey, old man,” Dust greets him cheerfully as she walks past him into the house and stashes her helmet and backpack on the bench under the coat rack in the hall. She stands up to take off her jacket only to be grabbed around the waist by one long arm and shoved up against the front door. Bull’s hands stray down to the backs of her thighs under the skirt of her sundress, lifting her up until he can kiss her without bending down. It’s a hard kiss, his wide mouth pressed almost painfully against hers. His tongue slips into her open mouth just long enough to get a quick taste, and then she’s back on the ground and a bit dizzy from the sudden changes in elevation and blood flow. He smooths her skirt down but rests his hands on her hips, not moving away

“Hey, tease,” Bull says cheerfully, lips wet as he smirks at her no doubt comically stunned face. “Krem’s outside watching his paella like it’s his baby. I’m under instructions to bring you right to him so he can say hello.”

“Oh, so you decided to give me totally inappropriate thoughts right before I see your kid again. Well thought out plan there, pops,” she can’t keep the amusement out of her voice as she scolds him, so he just shrugs and winks at her, stepping back to give her room to stow her gear. Laughing, she finishes taking her jacket off and hangs it up, leaving her in a yellow sundress and black leather bike boots.

“That’s quite a look you’ve got going on there. I dig the boots.”

“Well don’t get too excited, they’re temporary.” With a smile she reaches down to unzip them, pulling off her socks to stick into the bottom of each boot. With a flourish she pulls a pair of flip flops the same color as her dress from the front pocket of her backpack, letting them fall the the floor with a clop-clop sound before slipping into them.

“Came prepared I see. We should revisit the boots another time though.” There’s a lot of heat in Bull’s smile and matching heat flares low in Dust’s belly in response. They’ve had three “lunch dates” so far, and she’s starting to suspect Bull might actually be some kind of secret sex mage - the orgasms he’s given her have certainly been magical. Not that she had any intention of telling him that - no sense letting him get complacent.

“I’ll consider it,” she says, before digging into her backpack again, this time to pull out the bottle of wine she brought, and the plastic container holding the flan she made. It took three tries to get it right, despite the utter simplicity of the recipe, but she was pretty sure the third time had been the charm. On the plus side the failed attempts were tasty, even if they were ugly and either too firm or too soupy.

“I brought a couple things.” She hands the bottle and the flan to Bull, the wine bottle looking much smaller in his huge hands. “The flan should go in the fridge, the wine should go into the two of us, preferably.”

“Nice. I made sangria too, so you and I will be set.” Bull walks down the hall into the kitchen and she trails behind. He places the wine on the counter before opening the large door of the fridge to put the flan inside, setting it on a spotlessly clean and organized glass shelf. The contrast between Bull and Krem’s fridge and hers is laughable - theirs is full of cuts of meat, produce, and carefully stacked tupperware containers. The last time she looked in her own fridge it contained beer, some elderly cartons of take out, and a box of baking soda she’s pretty sure came with the apartment. They _do_ both have stuff stuck to the fridge with magnets though, which is where the commonality ends.

Bull’s fridge decor veers toward recipes, a couple report cards, and a lot of pictures of Krem, whereas hers feature a lot more take out menus and pictures of scantily clad bodies, but a connection is a connection, right? Except… she looks a bit closer at a picture of Krem standing next to a lovely woman with dark hair, amber brown eyes, and a sweet, friendly smile - also an amazing rack.

“Uh, Bull how do you and Krem know Bethy Hawke?”

Bull’s brow furrows in confusion for a moment before he follows her pointing finger to the picture of Bethany and Krem.

“Oh! You mean Ms. Bethany? She’s Krem’s teacher. This is actually his second year in a row with her, she switched grades over the summer. She’s pretty much the best teacher he’s ever had, great with the kids. You know her?” Bull looks fond and fatherly as he smiles at the picture and Dust is once again reminded that their worlds are _very_ different. This time the reminder comes out as a laugh that she manages to turn into a cough.

“Uh… you could say that,” she’s trying hard to keep her face neutral, but her lips keep twitching. “Her older brother Garrett is part owner of the Siren with Isabela. I’ve known all the Hawkes for years now.”

“Oh cool,” Bull says casually. Then his eyes narrow and he gives her a speculative look. “Wait… just how well do you know _Bethy_.” His voice is amused but with an edge of unmistakable (and dirty) interest.

“We were… fairly intimately acquainted when she was in college.” She manages to keep a straight face, but only just, before she goes on. “I’m also _acquainted_ with her twin brother Carver.”

“You’re shitting me!” Bull says, and his face is almost awed as he looks between her and the picture of Bethany. “Her _and_ her twin brother?”

“Well not at the same time!” she protests, with a shudder. The twin threesome thing has never been on her sexual to do list. “Carver was an insufferable ass until he joined the Wardens. He got better after that. _Much_ better.”

“Apparently,” Bull responds with a grin. “Come on, let’s get outside before Krem gets impatient and I get a scolding. But we should revisit this story along with your boots.”

Dust chuckles as she follows him out the back door of the kitchen, which leads to an old fashioned sun room, a distinctly Southern bit of architecture. A room enclosed in nothing but glass in Antiva would be asking for heat stroke, but in the much cooler temperatures of Ferelden it’s still quite pleasant, even in late summer. Roll down blinds diffuse the sunlight coming through the lower windows, the upper casements left open to invite a breeze. There’s an old fashioned wood stove in the corner that looks like it’s in excellent condition.

The late afternoon sunlight makes the whole room seem to glow, from the golden wood of the floors, to the rich red fabric of a slightly beat up, but very comfortable looking, couch. It’s piled high with an array of decorative pillows and a crocheted throw and there’s also a huge, dark leather recliner that is obviously intended for Bull. It's big enough she could practically lay down flat on the seat, and an image of herself sitting comfortably in Bulls lap while he reclines back for a nap flashes unexpectedly in her head. She pushes the thought away as it veers a little too close to domesticity for her taste.

“This is really nice,” she comments instead. “You two spend a lot of time in here?”

“Oh yeah, especially in winter! Get that stove going, make up some hot cocoa and watch the snow fall. I’ve been living in Ferelden for years and the snow thing still fascinates me every year. At least when the season first starts. I’ll admit it gets old after the first couple times I have to clear the driveway. No snow on Par Vollen or Seheron, that’s for sure. Krem and I camp out here on the night of the first snow every year, kind of an accidental tradition.”

The casual mention of Par Vollen and Seheron answers a question she’s had in the back of her head since they met. Having seen Bull naked she knows his skin is covered in a patchwork of scars, some of them fairly impressive and therefore kind of terrifying. The missing fingertips on his left hand are the most obvious, but she’s pretty sure whatever he did to his knee is actually the one that bothers him most. Time spent in Seheron says veteran, and Par Vollen says Tal-Vashoth, not Vashoth.

“Accidental? How do you end up with an accidental tradition?” She files the information on Bull’s background away at the back of her mind, to think about later. Bull smiles, and the expression is soft and warm as he gazes at the sun room with the look of someone seeing a different time or place.

“The first year I had Krem, he’d never seen snow before. I hadn’t gotten him proper snow clothes yet, so I wouldn’t let him play in it, but we came in here to watch it come down and both fell asleep. Woke up with a hell of a crick in my neck and then had to drive to the mall in the snow to get him clothes. The next year I decided we should do it again on purpose and remember to actually fold out the couch.”

The mental image of Bull and “baby” Krem asleep together on the couch while snow fell outside the windows of the porch was _painfully_ cute.

“Ugh, too cute, I can’t stand it. You’re trying to kill me, I can tell. Take me outside before I go into insulin shock.”

Bull laughs at her feigned disgust and opens the door, waving her out into the back yard. Her first sight of the yard brings her up short, standing frozen on the second step down. It’s a beautiful and eclectic mix of trees, flowers, large planter boxes, and carefully tended grass that doesn’t look like any other backyard she’s ever seen. Bull must be used to that kind of reaction, because he doesn’t bump into her, despite her abrupt stop.

The deck below, rather than poured concrete or even stone slabs, is a mosaic of geometric shapes constructed in varying shades of grey with bits of black and white stone for accent. The patio is sheltered by a large white pergola, draped with swathes of pretty, bright fabric, striped in shades of blue and pink. The space underneath is warm and inviting, with a small wood table set with three place settings, all resting on brightly patterned placemats.

Krem is standing at the far end of the deck, staring seriously at a huge pan sitting on an honest to the Creators paella burner, the kind she hasn’t seen in _years,_ specifically designed for the wide, flat bottom of a paellera. He’s wearing a blue apron and a serious expression as he looks down at the massive rice dish. There’s a table set up next to the burner for his cooking implements, and the whole scene is, in a word, adorable. Krem looks up as she finally makes her way down the steps and a brilliant grin splits his little brown face.

“Dust! Come see!” He beckons her over and she makes her way to him with a grin of her own. She leans down a bit to give him a quick, tight hug, having established at his game that hugs were “ok, if slightly uncool in public.” Pulling back she slings one arm over his shoulders and takes a deep, appreciative sniff.

“Iron Chef, this smells amazing. I think I might start drooling - your dad might need to find me a bib.” Krem giggles and wraps his arm around her waist. She glances over at Bull, wanting to make sure she isn’t overstepping, but Bull is just grinning goofily at the two of them.

“Thanks, I’m excited! Ms. Josie gave me her family’s recipe, she said it’s more authentic than the one in my cook book. It took a while to get all the ingredients; we had to order the saffron online.”

“Ha, I’ll bet! I swear it’s a challenge just to find salt and pepper in a Fereldan grocery.”

Krem snickers and then pulls away and really looks at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

“Hey, I like your dress, it matches the paella!” She looks down and laughs, the yellow of her dress is a bit lighter, but just as bright as the saffron infused rice in the pan.

“I didn’t think about that, I guess I’m accidentally cool.”

Krem tilts his head to the side and his brows draw together for a minute.

“How do you ride a motorcycle in a dress?” He asks, and the question is so unexpected it makes her laugh.

“I’ve got shorts on under the dress, and I wear my jacket and boots. I brought the sandals to change into when I got here.”

“Oh cool.” Krem looks at her seriously for a moment, blinking slowly, then nods. “You look really pretty.”

Dust has gotten plenty of compliments in her life - she’s attractive, and she knows how to capitalize on her looks. Still, there’s something so endearing about how serious Krem is about the whole thing, that it actually flusters her a little. It’s a simple comment, but so obviously heartfelt and carefully considered that it’s like her heart is melting, and she can feel the tips of her ears getting hot.

“Muchas gracias,” she says, giving a small curtsy and smiling. Krem beams at her like speaking Antivan is the coolest thing she’s ever done, and she grins back.

“Less flirting, more cooking, Krem-puff!” Dust and Krem exchange a look of amused exasperation as Bull comes over with a grin to interrupt them. Still, Dust is a little bit grateful, it feels weird to have that much unfiltered, childish admiration aimed her direction.

“Now Dust,” Bull says, joining them beside the paella, “can I interest you in some sangria?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

There’s a special kind of feeling Krem gets when something is just _right_. He feels it when he gets in a good hit in a game, the crack of the bat reverberating all the way up his arms. He feels it when he tastes a new dish and the flavors all come together just right, and he knows he’s going to learn to make it. He feels it when he and Pop go for a drive, talking and singing along with the radio, no destination in mind, just time together. He even feels it at school sometimes, when he’s taking a test and he knows all the answers in his head without any hesitation.

Sitting with Pop and Dust, eating paella and drinking lemonade, with the late afternoon sun shining through the fruit trees in the garden, gives him that exact same feeling of _right_. Even when the grown ups are talking (arguing) about movies he’s not allowed to see yet, and doesn’t really care about.

“I’m not saying Sacrifice isn’t amazing, but Victory is absolutely the pinnacle of the Warden movies, I don’t care what anyone says,” Dust is saying, gesturing at Pop with the mason jar of sangria she’s drinking from. The light from the setting sun makes her hair look gold instead of silver, like it’s trying to match her dress. Pop shakes his head, horns gleaming in the light.

“Come on, Sacrifice is what the whole series builds up to! Victory is just the midway point, all the emotion and fulfillment are in Sacrifice.”

“Pfft, Sacrifice is too heavy handed with the emotion, Victory is _full_ of emotion, but it’s more subtle and natural. Sure, the Wardens win, but you know it isn’t the end, you see more real sacrifice in Victory than you actually see in Sacrifice.”

“I can’t believe I’m friends with someone so wrong headed about the Warden movies,” Pop says, shaking his head with a look of great sadness. “Krem-puff, don’t listen to the sacrilege, when you’re old enough to watch them you’ll understand that she’s wrong about everything.”

“Don’t listen to him Krem!” Dust points a finger at him sternly, and he notices her nails are painted bright blue, which makes him smile, because blue is his favorite color. “I know you love him, but he obviously has inferior taste, just look at his shirt.”

“Hey, this is a great shirt, and I taste amazing,” Pop winks at Dust when he says it, looking way too pleased with himself over such a lame joke. Dust actually chokes on her drink over it - she must be a little drunk if she thinks he’s _that_ funny. Krem rolls his eyes and reaches out to pat her on the back like Pop does for him when he get something “down the wrong pipe.”

“I think you’re both nerds,” Krem declares decisively. “The Warden movies are really old and the special effects look cheesy. Plus Alistair says they’re not historically accurate.” He smirks as Dust makes a pretend shocked face and puts her hand over her heart like she’s hurt. She turns and looks accusingly at his dad across the table.

“First of all, your child is a heathen, for which I blame _you_ , and second, I cannot believe you let him hang out with this Alistair kid.”

“Alistair isn’t a kid, he’s Stitches’ nanny,” Krem points out with a grin.

“Technically he’s an au pair,” Pop corrects him. Krem just shrugs - they mean the same thing as far as he can tell, and nanny is a lot easier to remember.

“Whatever,” he says, taking a sip of his lemonade. They added some leftover fruit to the lemonade, just like they did to the Sangria, and he’s not sure he really likes it, maybe you can’t improve lemonade. “Alistair’s in college for history and he wants to be a Warden, so he knows all this stuff about Warden junk.”

“Well he may know about Wardens, but he _obviously_ doesn’t understand good storytelling. He sounds like a bad influence, your dad should be more careful about who he lets you hang out with.” Dust scoots her chair close to his and puts her arm around him like she’s protecting him from something, giving his dad a fake angry face that makes Krem snicker. Still, he feels like he should probably stand up for Alistair.

“He does kind of suck at telling stories, but he’s really nice, and he makes good grilled cheese sandwiches. Plus he even takes us to the movies sometimes on his days off.”

“Hmm… well I suppose even weirdos have to have _some_ redeeming qualities, and I do enjoy a good grilled cheese sandwich.” She’s gives his shoulders one last squeeze before leaning back in her chair, smiling. Krem doesn’t always like it when adults try and hug him or touch him - a lot of times it feels like they’re just doing it because he’s a kid, and they think they’re supposed to, whether he wants them to or not. When Dust hugs him or puts an arm around him, it feels like she means it. Plus she isn’t all grabby like some adults are, and doesn’t do stupid things like try and pinch his cheeks. He _hates_ that.

By the time they finish dessert (which Krem tells Dust that she has to teach him how to make because it’s like a cross between pudding and pie) the sun is starting to set and he’s feeling the effects of a whole day spent out in the sun cooking and getting everything set up. Pop shoos him off to give Dust a tour of the garden while there’s still light out, starting to clean up the dishes. He points out his herb bed, and where they’re going to put in the vegetable garden next year. They admire Pop’s giant, canopied hammock, and he can’t keep from giggling when Dust sets her drink down on the grass and climbs into it, sinking right into the middle with the sides hiding her from sight.

“I’m sleeping over, this thing is great!”

Laughing, Krem leans down and gives her a little push so the hammock starts to rock. It makes Dust yelp and then laugh loudly. Pop, coming back from inside the house, walks over to check out what’s going on, shaking his head as he chuckles at them. Dust looks more like she’s in a cocoon than a hammock.

“All right Krem-de-la-creme, thirty minute warning,” Pop reminds him, giving him a gentle pat on the back. Krem sighs regretfully but knows there’s no point in arguing with Pop about his bedtime - his dad has super strong opinions about growing children getting enough sleep, and will start to talk about his “tama” when Krem complains. Dust manages to peek her head up over the side of the hammock, sending it rocking again.

“Okay, how do I get out of this damn thing?”

“Oh you’re stuck forever now,” Pop tells her, giving a fake villain laugh. “It’s a trap! Krem and I are kidnapping you for nefarious purposes.” Krem can’t help giggling as Dust rolls her eyes.

“Really, and what would those be, stuffing me full of delicious food? Making me listen to terrible puns?” She raises just one eyebrow the way Dorian does, which Krem still hasn’t been able to figure out how to do.

“Huh…” Pop scratches at the base of one of his horns, like he’s embarrassed. “Well you figured that out quick, now my plans are foiled.”

“Creators you’re a dork. Help me out of this thing before I really do get stuck forever.” She holds out her arm, wiggling her fingers in his dad’s direction.

Laughing, Pop reaches down and just scoops Dust right out of the hammock. Krem used to love it when Pop did that to him, and if he’s honest he still kinda does, because his dad will swing him high up in the air, even when he pretends he’s too cool for it. Dust on the other hand, makes a funny noise halfway between a shriek and a squeak that makes Krem laugh even more. Dust glares at them both indignantly when Pop sets her on the ground and smoothes down her skirt with dignity. He can see her lips twitching though, so he knows she isn’t really mad.

“Rude! I’m not a house cat, you can’t just pick me up to get me off the furniture!”

Pop tilts his head to the side, a look on his face like he’s trying to hold back a sneeze, but he grins down at her.

“Nah, you’re definitely more of an alley cat than a housecat.”

“That isn’t better, Bull! Why am I even friends with you? I’m officially only hanging out with Krem from now on.”

Krem is laughing helplessly now, because suddenly Dust _does_ kind of look like an angry cat, all messy white hair and pointed ears that are _twitching,_ just like Skinner’s when she’s pissed off. He’s bent over, laughing helplessly while Dust makes indignant noises and throws her hands up in the air.

“You’re both terrible! The worst!” She says it really dramatically, and again it reminds him a lot of Dorian.

“Aww, you know you like us.” Pop says.

“Yes, but I have terrible taste in men, so that’s not exactly a surprise.”

Krem is still giggling, he can’t help it, but something about the way Dust says it makes him feel uncomfortable. Pop’s still smiling, but it looks funny and frozen, and Dust’s eyebrows are scrunched together, wincing like she just bit her tongue. She looks… well not upset exactly, but like she just gave the wrong answer out loud in class.

“Well it can’t be that bad, because Krem-puff and I are obviously amazing.” His dad slings an arm over her shoulders in a kind of half hug. She’s stiff for a second and then Krem can see her relax. Pop does give really good hugs.

“Yes, it must be improving all the time.” Dust’s smile looks like it doesn’t fit just right, but it’s better than it was. Krem decides it’s time to move on before the grown ups get any weirder.

“Hey Dust, you wanna see my room?” That morning he cleaned it up to make sure it was extra spotless, so he could show her when she came over.

“Sure, lead the way!”

Krem grins and grabs her hand, leading her to the house while Pop watches them with another funny smile.

* * *

When Bull wanders back into the sun room after putting Krem to bed, Dust is curled up in his giant armchair, and is seriously thinking about just staying there for a while, like possibly overnight. She’s isn’t drunk, but she’s still a little warm and fuzzy from the sangria and wine, not to mention the nearly diabetes inducing level of cuteness that is Krem in his Steven Universe pajamas. They’d had a rousing ten minute discussion about their favorite gems (Krem loved Garnet, which she respected, but there was a special place in Dust’s heart for Amethyst) before Bull had cut them off and escorted Krem back to his completely adorable (and very blue) room.

“I suspect I know who chose which paint colors for the house,” she tells Bull with a grin when he walks back into the room.

“Yeah,” he responds, laughing as he leans against the doorway, massive arms crossed, “when he first moved in the house was all pink, drove him _nuts_ even when he was six. So I repainted it, figured it would make it feel more like home if he got to pick the color.”

The weird melty sensation she feels at Bull’s soft, fond expression, is _entirely_ due to the alcohol, she’s positive. At least, she’s going to tell herself that until it sticks. _Fuck buddy_ , she reminds herself sternly.

“Nice. I’m sure the neighbors appreciated it too.”

“Ha, maybe a little.” He tilts his horns toward the door to the backyard, smile changing from sweet to something a little darker. “Why don’t you let me show you the parts of the garden Krem missed? I’ll get you some water so you’re good to drive when you leave.”

“Mmm… I dunno, this chair is really comfortable. What has your garden got that this really impressive piece of furniture doesn’t?”

This time Bull’s grin is downright dirty, and she figures he knows as well as she does that she has no intention of turning down a “tour.”

“You’ll see. It’ll be worth your while, promise.”

She gives a long suffering and exaggerated sigh. “All right old man, fetch me my beverage and then I’ll go wander through your garden with you.”

Bull chuckles and heads back through the archway leading to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two big glasses of water, both with slices of lemon, and what looks like a fairly large blanket draped over one shoulder. He hands her one of the glasses before offering his now free hand to help her out of the chair. Together they wander out into the backyard, where the sun has finally fallen below the horizon, leaving the sky the soft purple-blue of twilight, a faint hint of orange in the distance. Satina has already begun to rise, her larger sister nowhere to be seen just yet.

The backyard is carefully and cleverly lit with rune lights that someone fashioned to provide clever but subtle light along the paved paths through the garden, around the planter boxes, even on the trellis against the house where climbing flowers she doesn’t recognize had been blooming earlier but have closed themselves off now the sun has disappeared. The white lights are all set cleverly into paving stones or wood boxes, like oversized fireflies instead of lamps. Their light would be just enough for a human to not stumble too badly in the dark, but to her superior night vision they provide quite enough light to pick out details in the growing darkness.

They wander across the lawn toward the fence on the driveway side of the house, before Bull turns and pulls her toward one of the maple trees at the edge of the property. She smiles, thinking he wants to make out under the tree, only to be guided down a sloping path that had been hidden from casual view by some ornamental bushes, leading down to a whole other level of yard. It’s darker than the upper level, but she can make out a large playset across an expanse of slightly overgrown grass with a swing and a slide, and the sound of running water is coming from two different places, one close, one no doubt across the rest of the yard.

Bull guides her down the path until the ground flattens out again, then gently turns her so that she‘s facing back toward the house. Her mouth drops open in surprise - in front of her is something that looks like a small grotto nestled into the embankment of the higher part of the yard, bordered with a wall of rough grey stone, and camouflaged from above by ferns and other pretty plants and flowers, overhung with the branches of one of the maples.

“Oh, Bull…” She trails off because she really can’t think of anything to describe just how gorgeous the little grotto is. The same clever rune lighting, in a slightly more golden hue, twinkles on some of the bricks that make up the wall enclosing it, and water flows down one side of the hill to land in a little tiny pond surrounded by ferns, adding an insulating layer of white noise to the space. More of the small lights are threaded in the maple above them, nothing overpowering, but giving an effect like tiny stars caught in the pointed leaves. Sturdy cushions meant for outdoor use are tucked against the stone wall, but Bull temporarily ignores them to spread out the blanket across the grass. Grinning at her, he flops some cushions down onto the blanket, and then gestures for her to settle down.

She kicks off her sandals, stepping onto the soft surface of the blanket before sinking down and lying back in the cushions to stare up at the soft green foliage of the maple tree. It will no doubt turn blood red when the weather starts to get cold, but for now it’s still deep green in the mixed light of moon, stars, and tiny golden wisps.

Bull lays down beside her, on his side, propping his head and horns up on one large fist. He’s not bothering to hide his pleased expression at her obvious awe of his outdoor masterpiece. His hand slides across her belly to rest on the hip furthest from him, not starting anything necessarily, just a warm touch.

“This is incredible. You might actually not be able to get rid of me, I could easily sleep out here.”

“Shit, I’m not gonna stop you,” he chuckles. “You’re not exactly dressed for camping though.”

“Ha, I’m Dalish, this isn’t camping, this is… gentle outdoor lounging.”

“I didn’t know Antiva had a lot of Dalish clans.” He sounds interested, but mildly, as if he’s leaving her an opening, but won’t mind if she doesn’t take it. Normally she’d definitely move right past the opportunity to talk about herself, but his interest doesn’t feel invasive somehow. He doesn’t give the impression he’s looking for tales of the Exotic Life of the Dalish, which really isn’t exotic at all.

“Mmm… a few, but Clan Lavellan is based in the Free Marches, near Wycome. It’s my mother’s clan. I went to live with them when I was about seventeen.”

“Ahh, got it.” His thumb rubs over her hip, just firm enough to keep from tickling. “So you’ve got all your nature merit badges is what you’re telling me.”

Dust laughs at his tone, glad that he doesn’t push. She’s honestly not even sure why she told him _that_ much, except maybe it’s just because he’s so damn easy to talk to. He never seems like he’s asking for form’s sake, or out of any weird, fetishistic interest - nothing more than simple curiosity about her. It’s a nice change from people wanting Noble Savage nonsense, as if her clan doesn’t drive ATVs to herd halla or have permanent settlements all throughout the Free Marches, and her aunt doesn’t belong to the City Council of Wycome. Of course considering he's qunari, he probably gets equally insulting questions himself, so maybe that helps.

“That I do,” she scoots over closer to him, tucking herself against his bulk. Qunari run hot, and Bull might as well be a living furnace for all the heat he gives off. “Still, I appreciate a nice bed, let me tell you. Also regular showers. You’d be amazed how fast I can wash in a freezing cold spring when I have to.”

“Mmm, I like that mental image. There’s a stream at the edge of the property, I could get you some soap…” His hand shifts up to her waist, fingers splaying over her ribs as she laughs and smacks him on the arm.

“Not a chance, old man, I know what you’re after. You’re not getting me naked in your backyard, not with your kid here.”

Bull laughs and shakes his head, but the look he gives her is a little funny, as if he’s giving her statement extra thought.

“I know _bas_ are kind of hung up on sex stuff, but you know I _do_ have sex in my own home, right? Even when my kid’s home. That’s why my bedroom has a lock, and good soundproofing.”

“Uhh…” she really has no idea how to respond to that. She doesn’t exactly have a lot of hangups about sex, but kids just throw her whole sense of right and wrong out the window. So far she’s done pretty well, if Krem’s happiness to have her around is any indication, but she’s actually getting more worried about fucking up as time goes on instead of less. Krem is such a great kid, she really doesn’t want to make the kind of thoughtless adult mistakes that made her own childhood short and pretty awful.

“Look,” he continues, “I'm not saying we have to have sex out here, or at all tonight, but under the Qun, sex is just… sex. It’s a need some people have, and you get your cork popped as needed by the tamassrans. I don’t believe in treating it like it’s taboo, so Krem knows about sex. He knows it’s something adults do, and he knows it’s important to be safe. I mean, I don’t share details of my sex life, but I’m not about to hide it like it’s shameful.”

He’s looking at her seriously now, and she’s trying to think of something intelligent to say when her brain is still swirling in confused circles.

“I just… don’t want to upset him,” she manages to get out. “Or do something inappropriate. I don’t want to be creepy.”

Dust looks down, feeling uncomfortable with meeting Bull's eyes. His silly tank top practically glows, even in the low light. His free hand comes up and gently tilts her chin back until she’s looking at him again. Somehow, despite how huge he is, and how close he is, he manages not to seem like he’s looming over her.

“Hey, I appreciate that, I _really_ do, but trust me I’m not about to do anything I think is going to hurt my kid. I mean honestly, he sleeps like the dead, and if he _does_ wake up and come looking for me, the worst he’s going to get is an eyefull of two consenting adults having a good time. He might be embarrassed, but it’s hardly going to be a life long trauma.”

“You obviously never walked in on your parents having sex,” she jokes weakly, still feeling awkward. That gets her a full belly laugh, and a smirk that makes her squirm in a good way.

“Nah, don’t have parents under the Qun. But trust me, there was a lot of experimenting that went on in the dormitories before we were old enough to go to the tamassrans. You sort of get used to seeing more of people you grew up with than you were planning.”

She can’t help but laugh at that. The mental image of Bull as a horny (no pun _actually_ intended) teenager is kind of hard to picture, and yet rather hilarious in concept.

“Point is,” he continues, tone serious, “that if _you_ don’t want to fool around out here, or even at my place at all, that’s fine. But if what you’re worried about it somehow corrupting Krem, I promise you don’t have to worry about that. I know I may seem like a pretty casual parent, but my kid’s well being is always going to come before my own fun. I wouldn’t start anything I thought was going to hurt him.”

_Oh, well done, Dust, you’ve implied he’s a bad parent for wanting to have sex with you._ Now she feels shitty. It's obvious Bull is a great dad, and here she is acting like he’s never thought about how his sex life might affect his kid.

“I’m sorry!” she blurts, wishing she could rewind her life by about five minutes. She looks down between them again, not wanting Bull to see how fucking embarrassed she is. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t thinking about Krem! I just, I’ve never been with anyone who has kids, that I know of”

She thinks of Morrigan and winces before she thinks to stop herself, leaving her tense and annoyed with herself. Bull _really_ doesn't need all the embarrassing details of her previous relationships, and the last thing she wants is to open herself up to awkward questions. There's a moment of silence between them, but when she eventually looks up Bull is just smiling at her.

“Hey, I'm not insulted because you want to be cautious of Krem’s well being, sweetheart. I just want you to be able to relax when you're here,” Bull says, leaning down to kiss her again. His lips are soft and sweet, though his stubble scrapes her skin pleasantly, and the kiss itself is chaste. The kiss may be innocent enough, but Bull’s hand moves over the fabric of her dress, across her hip and down to her thigh, fingertips just sliding under the hem of her skirt. His fingers pause then, not moving until she makes an approving noise against his mouth, and then they're moving again, gently stroking her thigh. She can feel him smile before his tongue darts against her lower lip, urging her to open to him. Nervous about appropriate behavior or not, she’s not about to lie to herself that she hasn’t been wanting more kisses since that first searing hot one in the hallway.

After a few moments of exploring her mouth, Bull’s lips slip away, grazing over her jaw, moving toward the sensitive dip of flesh behind her ear, flicking his tongue out to make her gasp. His hand gently shifts under her head and neck to lift her up slightly, giving room for him to kiss her neck without goring his way through the blanket. Bull, she’s discovered, is highly adept at working around whatever constraints his horns might cause, if she just lets him guide her. Smiling as she tilts her head to give him better access, she reaches up to run one of her hands over the smoothly shaved back of his head, fingertips exploring the juncture of horn and skin. Bull makes an appreciative noise deep in his throat before biting down on the soft skin where her shoulder meets her neck, not too hard just yet, but a kind of warning not to move.

Bull pulls his hand out from under her skirt, calloused fingers still almost ticklish in their gentleness. His hand skims over the fabric of her dress as he moves it back up and over her hip, thumb pausing to rub a few soft circles against her hip bone before shifting up her ribs. He skirts past her breast and up to her shoulder, where those long, thick fingers delicately untie the bow that holds her dress strap in place. Heat shoots down through her belly and pools between her legs as Bull caresses the bare skin of her shoulder with just the tips of his three good fingers on his left hand, his mouth following shortly after.

“I like this dress,” he murmurs against her skin.

“Oh?” She manages to get the word out despite feeling distinctly breathless as his mouth moves a bit lower, to the expanse of skin over her chest, right before the swell of her breast.

“Oh yeah… like that I could tell all day you didn’t have a bra on, but it’s kinda…” he stops talking long enough to gently pull the fabric of her dress down just enough to expose her breast, the skin instantly pebbling with goosebumps, not from cold but from anticipation. “...subtle. Couldn’t see your nipples or anything, just knew they were waiting for me. And look, here’s one now!”

He chuckles and she huffs out a sound that’s half moan, half exasperated laugh as he finally cups her in one huge, hot hand. She closes her eyes and lets her head rest in his other hand with no effort on her part. He pinches the hard peak of her nipple between his fingers and she whimpers, hips shifting up so she can press herself against the wide, denim clad thigh between her legs.

“Just relax, I got you.”

Dust is trying to think of a clever response, something better than _I guess we’re having sex outside after all_ when Bull’s mouth, hot and wet, closes around her nipple, the faintest scrape of his stubbled chin against the bottom curve of her breast. She inhales sharply, a cautious voice in the back of her head reminding her she’s in the middle of the suburbs, and the sounds of loud sex will probably carry quite a ways in the still darkness.

Bull gently sets her head back onto the blanket, shifting his weight so that his right hand can untie the other side of her dress. She probably shouldn’t find it so arousing to be exposed and in the open, nothing between her and the grass but a soft blanket, branches swaying softly over her head. Yet it sparks something hot inside her, reminding her of visiting clan settlements with her aunt, running off in the darkness to fool around with other boys and girls her age. Sometimes they came back breathless and disheveled while the adults simply shook their heads and rolled their eyes. Back when disappearing into the woods for a tryst was something sweet and almost innocent, not something she had to hide from disapproving eyes.

She’s pulled back out of her spiraling thoughts when Bull bites down hard on her nipple, making her breath catch as she chokes back a shriek. The sensation rides just along the edge of too much, sudden and startling in contrast to how gentle he’s been so far. Grabbing Bull’s horns hard, she glares down at him, pushing up in silent instruction to let go, which he mostly ignores. Instead he winks at her and then very gently sucks at her nipple, teasing it with flicks of his tongue, sweet and soothing before he begins kissing his way across her chest toward her other breast.

“Fuck you,” she manages to mutter, her voice shaky with reaction. Bull chuckles and lifts his lips off of her skin to murmur back “maybe another time” before going back to work. His mouth closes over her untouched nipple, and she bites her lower lip, trying to concentrate both on the sensation and on staying quiet. It’s not easy - Bull has learned faster than any lover she’s ever had how to push all her buttons, playing her like an instrument of flesh and bone. When he’s not driving her mad with his mouth, or his hands, his voice, or his _cock_ , glorious Creators that magnificent cock, she gets a little nervous about it. She’s not used to being such an open book to someone, even in bed. But now, with his mouth on her, his free hand moving down to wrap tight around her hip, all she can think about is the urgent, insistent _wanting_ that’s building inside of her.

Bull sucks hard on her nipple as he lifts his head slowly, until her breast is distended and she’s kicking at the back of his thigh, little mewling noises escaping past her teeth. He finally frees her with a wet sucking _pop_ , his smile wicked and wide as he watches her breast jiggle in response to the way he pulled free.

“Fuck that’s hot,” he says, voice beginning to take on that growling quality that makes her go weak and desperate. Dust makes a noise in response, words already feeling like a bit too much work, and his smile transforms into something a little softer. He reaches up and pries her hands from his horns, gently lowering them to her sides, before rubbing his thumbs over her calloused palms. Bull likes manhandling her, holding her down, and she’s generally enthusiastic about it, as long as she can remember what she’s supposed to be doing. This time there aren’t any growled instructions, he just moves his hands back to her ribs, tugging her dress down until she’s exposed down to the waist.

Then he’s pushing the hem of her dress up, leaving her with more of a large, ruffled belt than a dress. He grins at the sight of the black workout shorts she has on underneath, before sliding his fingertips into the waistband to pull them down. She shifts her hips obligingly, letting him slide them down and off, tossed gently to a corner of the blanket. All that’s left are her panties, white cotton with yellow polka dots and lace trim that make Bull chuckle.

“Nice,” he murmurs before reaching up to gently cup her hips in both hands, fingers spanning back to her ass. He runs his thumbs up and down the crease of her thighs, along the soft lace trim. When a cool breeze makes her shiver it seems to wake him up, and he leans forward to kiss her again, light and sweet, the warm bulk of him comforting as he carefully lowers his hips down between the juncture of her thighs. She wraps her arms as far around his shoulders as she can, kneading into the massive arches of his trapezius muscles, loving the knowledge of his incredible strength beneath her hands. The fact that he keeps that strength so controlled, so well leashed, carefully measured to thrill and not threaten, is absolutely delicious to her. Way too many men with muscles like Bull think they need to prove how strong they were, usually in the most asinine ways possible. Bull’s mix of confidence, strength, and gentleness is downright intoxicating.

For a long while they simply kiss, Bull braced on one elbow, body curved over hers and one hand planted firmly on her hip as he teases her with his tongue and lips and teeth. She shifts and wraps her legs around his hips, pulling him down so she can feel the bulge of his erection pressing through his jeans against her pussy through the soft, damp cotton of her panties. That earns her a little growl, and she shivers. Bull seems as pleased by _her_ strength as she is by his - she might not be able to bench press a nuggalope, but years of weight training have left her with legs strong enough to get even Bull’s attention.

When Bull pulls back, she lets him go reluctantly, giving him a hazy scowl as she licks her kiss swollen lips. With a smile, he shifts again, mouth kissing a path down her ribs, skipping over the ruched up fabric of her dress before following the soft curve of her lower belly, then pressing a kiss against her pubic mound. She tenses and goes still, suddenly realizing just what he’s planning to do, and trying to decide if she wants to argue about it, or just let him eat her out for a bit before hopefully convincing him to move on to something less frustrating.

But, being Bull, she never gets the chance to decide, because he’s already stopped and is looking up at her, concerned. She’s not sure how well he can see her in the growing darkness, even with the tiny rune lights all around the grotto, but she can see him clearly, and she hates the very intense look he’s giving her.

“Not a fan of oral sex?” he asks. There’s no judgement or disbelief in his voice, both of which she’s gotten in the past, it’s just a simple inquiry. She wiggles up onto her elbows, not wanting to to be completely prone for a discussion she doesn’t really want to have.

“It’s… okay,” she temporizes. That earns her a snort of disbelief and a raised eyebrow. He’s still gently stroking his fingers across her hip, and it’s both soothing and distracting at once. “I mean I do like it, mostly, but it just takes a long time for me to come that way.”

And not just because a lot of the men who volunteered had no clue what the fuck they were doing, and couldn’t manage to make her come even with instructions, encouragement, and a one woman cheering section. Women were generally better, but it really does take her a long time to come from it, and she doesn’t like to leave her partners hanging. One night stands don’t really lend themselves to marathon pussy eating sessions in her experience. For whatever reason, fingers, her own or someone else’s usually get her there way faster than a tongue, and with a lot less nerve wracking need to try and give subtle instructions without insulting her partner. Bull is looking at her with an expression she can’t quite read, but he doesn’t seem upset.

“That’s really not something that bothers me, you know.” He sounds so calm and conversational, like they’re talking about preference in pizza toppings or something equally mundane. He turns his head to place soft little kiss on her thigh, thumb still rubbing gently at her hip. “I really, really like making you feel good. This is just a way I haven’t had a chance to try yet. I’m not worried about how long it takes.”

“You won’t feel that way when it takes so long your jaw cramps,” she retorts. He lifts his head enough to grin at her, and somehow it’s filthy.

“Qunari jaws are roughly three times as strong as non qunari, thanks to the horns. I can and _have_ gone for hours, little tease.”

Dust can’t decide if that sounds like a threat or a promise, and she’s definitely not sure she wants to find out. Part of what’s been so amazing about sex with Bull is how easily and quickly he reads her physical responses without her feeling like she’s snapping out instructions. She’s not really sure she wants to ruin a perfectly good evening by stressing out about achieving an orgasm, or insulting Bull if she can’t manage it.

Apparently that struggle shows on her face, because suddenly he’s back up above her and then shifting so that he’s laying on his side, pulling her close so that she’s pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, his ridiculous tank top pressing against her cheek, his right hand splayed warm and comforting against her back.

“Okay, let’s step back a second here. How about you tell me if you actually like getting eaten out?”

It isn’t quite as simple as Bull apparently thinks, but he seems to genuinely want to know.

“Sometimes... If the person I’m with knows what they’re doing, and _really_ isn’t in a hurry. If I feel like they’re getting bored it just sucks all the fun out of it.”

Bull chuckles gently, his chest vibrating against her cheek. She can feel her face and ears growing hot, but the laugh sounds sympathetic instead of mocking.

“Yeah, I’m betting you’ve had some folks who thought just mashing the button would get the job done.” She groans and then laughs herself, because that pretty much sums things up.

“Or let me guess,” Bull adds, “they just want you to reciprocate, so they get a few swipes in, then they’re all done with the lollipop.” This time she has no doubt he’s trying to make her laugh, and he succeeds. He sounds like he’s had that particular experience himself.

“Don’t forget the ones who just have no fucking clue what’s down there at all.” She volunteered, remembering a few very unfortunate randos in her younger years.

“Ouch. Hopefully not many of those?” He once again sounds amused, but sympathetic.

“Thankfully not in years. And at least they were easy to distract. Moan a little and then declare my undying need to have them fuck me from behind so I could get my hands on myself and get the job done.”

Bull lets out a strangled chuckle, and she can feel his body shake slightly with it.

“Well shit, now I really want to do it so I can make up for a couple of those previous encounters. You deserve some special treatment.”

“You’re just over hyping things,” she mumbles into his chest, really glad she doesn’t have to meet his eyes.

“You wound me, but I understand. How about this? If you’re not interested, that’s totally fine, you can just tell me and I’ll not only let it go, I won’t bring it up again. But, if you’re willing to give it a shot, I would love to make you come all over my face with just my mouth.”

That sends a spike of heat like lightning through her, the walls of her cunt squeezing tight and almost painful in response, and she can’t quite stifle her gasp against his chest.

“Mmm… yeah, definitely a nice thought.” His hand shifts down from her back to cup around her ass, giving a squeeze. “You ever use a safeword?”

The question is so out of the blue it takes her brain a few extra moments to process, still a little dazed from imagining Bull’s face buried between her legs, with her thighs propped on his massive shoulders.

“Uhh… once or twice? You have some kind of bondage equipment hidden around here somewhere?” She pushes back so she can look up at him, and he’s smirking.

“Nah, I keep all that in the bedroom.”

_Oh…_ Well that was definitely something to think about later. From his low laugh Dust can tell Bull has an idea of what is running through her head, and she reaches out to poke him none too gently in the ribs. He grabs her hand and kisses her knuckles.

“Here’s what I wanna try, if you’re interested. I’m gonna eat you out, just like I want, taste you, get my tongue deep inside you, until you can’t help but come, no matter how long it takes. You can do whatever you need, say no, scratch, kick, whatever you want, but I’m just gonna keep going until you orgasm, unless you use the safeword, then I’ll stop right away.”

Dust knows how to breathe, she just briefly forgets that she’s _supposed_ to for a few seconds. _Mythal have mercy_ , she thinks helplessly. Bull is staring down at her, gaze intensely focused on her reactions, and she is pretty sure he’s expecting an answer, but her brain turned to goo the moment he said “taste you” in his deep, rumbling voice. Goo is not good at forming coherent thoughts.

“Dust, sweetheart, you ok in there?”

“Yes!” It comes out a little too loud and a little too desperate, but she’s just relieved to manage speaking, and to have the words come out in Trade. “I mean… yes… I’m here and yes that’s… that’s a thing we could do.”

Bull bends down to give her a quick kiss on the forehead, and she can feel the curve of his lips as he smiles.

“Perfect.” His hand shifts back up from her ass, warm and firm between her shoulder blades, and his face goes very serious. “You have have a specific safeword you like to use?”

“Uhh… no?” She can’t even remember what she had used last time, it’s been so many years since she’d come close to trusting someone enough for the kind of sex that needed one. Void, it was probably with Bela, and they haven’t had sex in _years_.

“Alright, you don’t like it, or you’re just not comfortable, or whatever, you say ‘katoh.’” He looks at her expectantly and she blinks back, trying to marshal her thoughts into some kind of working order

“Katoh,” she repeats, feeling the rough, unfamiliar sounds in her mouth.

“Good. It’s just Qunlat for stop, but I figure it isn’t something you’re going to say by accident.”

“Is there some reason I can’t just say no, or stop?” She doesn’t really have a problem with the safeword, but she’s curious.

Bull’s sudden grin makes her shiver and once against sends that lightning hot need shooting through her.

“I’ve discovered from experience that people get a little lost when I get going. ‘Don’t stop’ sounds enough like ‘Don’t! Stop!’” that I’m not going to risk not stopping if there isn’t a watchword. The interruptions just slow down the fun.”

“Ahh…” She supposes he has a point. And she didn’t actually give a fuck, he had her wet and hot and she just was ready for him to put his mouth to better use than with talking. “Works for me. Let’s do this old man.”

He laughs and shakes his head, great horns gleaming in the soft glow of the rune lights. Barely a second later he has her on her back, fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties so he can pull them down her legs with excruciating slowness. They disappear off with her shorts, and then just as she imagined her legs are being settled over Bull’s shoulders as his mouth begins to travel down the inside of her thighs from her knee. She tenses, involuntarily, but Bull doesn’t seem to mind, just continues to trail kisses along her skin, stopping to bite gently once or twice while his hands hold her hips still. Taking a deep breath she lays back on the blanket, flinging one arm over her eyes, the other clutching at the blanket beneath her, something tangible to hold onto and anchor her.

She’s exposed, naked but for the scrunched up yellow fabric of her dress, legs spread and breasts bared to the still warm air. It’s incredibly hot, and she’s so aroused it’s painful, yet she’s still tense, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Bull, as always, seems to sense what she’s feeling, smoothing one hand up and down her thigh, keeping his kisses light, but not so light they tickle as he turns his head to kiss the opposite thigh. It’s as if he’s giving her time simply to adjust to his presence, and it seems to work because she finds herself relaxing, her stomach muscles unclenching even as his lips finally press against the tuft of white pubic hair she keeps carefully groomed. People always seemed so fascinated by the color that she’d stopped getting rid of it all.

Bull makes a rumbling sound of appreciation as his mouth presses against her, and then he takes a deep breath through his nose as if smelling something delicious. Her face feels like it has caught fire, somehow she’s embarrassed and nervous, and incredibly aroused all in one. She makes a helpless noise that can’t decide if it’s a moan or a nervous laugh, and Bull mumbles something she can’t make out against her skin as his hand continues to pet her leg soothingly, the other one holding her hip.

He starts slow, closed mouth kisses pressed against her sensitive skin until she relaxes again, pleasure beginning to buzz between her legs as his lips explore her. Eventually he presses his tongue between the folds of her outer labia and as the pleasure grows more urgent she is suddenly struck by the fact that Bull’s tongue is as proportional (and as talented) as his cock, long broad swipes of it making her shiver as the wet heat of it travels from down near her ass up to the tuft of her pubic hair again, just pressing over her lips, not penetrating at all. The noises he makes as he tastes her have her clutching at the blanket beneath her… little growls and moans, words that she thinks must be Qunlat, all of them a chorus that makes her squirm with mild embarrassment and fire hot arousal.

Dust keeps her lower lip caught between her teeth, arm still pressed over her eyes as she shifts, indicating pleasure with little movements of her hips, not daring to let words slip from between her lips in case they become loud, unchecked noises. Bull’s hands have moved from her leg and hip, relying on his shoulders to prop her thighs wide for him. His hands come up from beneath her, fingers brushing her ass as his thumbs spread her open, giving him more access, more of her to taste. The first time the tip of his tongue circles her clit she whimpers, legs tensing for a moment before she goes slack, letting them fall open as she crosses her ankles behind his back. The motion earns her an approving growl, and before she can even make a conscious choice, her free hand is over one of her own breasts, lightly tugging at her nipple to provide a sharp, insistent counterpoint to the slow slide of his tongue.

His tongue seems to be everywhere at once, sliding, pressing, swirling, and she finds herself sinking into the pleasure in ways she hasn’t with a partner in years. It’s a different kind of pleasure than she’s grown used to, a steady, buzzing current instead of the more immediate climb of firm fingers or the rounded head of a cock or a strap-on. It’s almost as if she’s having one long, continual, low level orgasm, the pleasure making her squirm as it builds slowly yet almost unbearably. Bull sucks at her clit, flicks it with his tongue, explore all the folds and crevices of her body until she’s dripping wet and breathing like she’s run a marathon. Then that long, oh so talented tongue is wiggling inside her and words pour from her mouth like water at the shock of it. None of them make sense to her, but there’s no denying the desperate pleading of her tone as she loses herself to what he’s doing.

For a time that might be endless or may be a few seconds, his tongue thrusts and swirls inside her, pressing the tip against the spots that make her cry out, even as she tries to stay quiet. Her hips would be bucking if he wasn’t holding her hips and ass firmly in place, apparently unperturbed by the fact she’s probably kicking him hard enough to leave bruises when he hits particularly sensitive spots.

Eventually Bull pulls his tongue out from where it’s circling inside her, pressing against places she’s not sure it should be able to _reach_ , making her feel like she might explode, whether from pleasure or frustration. He laps at her clit instead, gently but firmly, and she feels locked in some kind of terrible, wonderful limbo of pleasure, that steady buzz increasing in intensity as her hips buck involuntarily. She can feel her orgasm building, oh so slowly, like a ship appearing as little more than a blur on the horizon. It’s too much, and not enough, and she’s squirming and pressing her heels into Bull’s back, pinching her nipple and berating him in whatever language is quickest to come to her lips.

“Bull, Bull, fuck me, use your fingers, anything, _please_.” She shudders and will probably be embarrassed when she thinks of how needy she sounds later, but now she’s positive she’ll die if she doesn’t come, and quickly.

“No.” He squeezes her ass as he lifts his head, the short word almost a snarl, low and harsh. “You come on my tongue or not at all.”

And then he’s plunging his tongue into her again and the sound she makes is a sob of pleasure and frustration, air trembling out of her lungs through lips bitten sore. The watchword hovers on her tongue as she squirms, but she can’t quite bring herself to say it, only letting the word circle in her head as Bull drives her mad.

Still though, his pace seems to grow a bit faster, egged on by her begging or his own arousal she doesn’t know, and she certainly doesn’t care, taking her arm away from her face so che can squeeze both her breasts, pinching and rubbing her hard nipples as Bull begins to firmly swipe at her clit, sucking, lapping, even gently biting it, and her orgasm begins to build at speed, coming closer and closer as she squirms and moans and likely blasphemes every god in every pantheon she can remember.

When her orgasm finally does hit, it takes her hard and by surprise, one moment still feeling far away, and the next minute making all her muscles clench and her back arch as the walls of her cunt spasm and she forgets all about breathing again. The sound of Bull’s pleased growl is the only thing that breaks through the rushing in her ears.

Bull has stopped growling and is gently moving her legs off his shoulders by the time she remembers how to breathe, and also how her eyelids work. She blinks down at him, and he grins in response, obviously hugely pleased with himself, his face gleaming with wetness in the low light, almost too bright to her dilated pupils. Under normal circumstances she might have been annoyed by his smug expression, but at the moment she’s pretty hugely pleased with him as well.

“Holy shit.” It comes out reverent but a little raspy, and she wonders if she’d gotten loud and not noticed. She really does not give a single fuck if she did, inhibitions and concerns having been completely obliterated by the rush of endorphins to her brain. Bull pulls off his ridiculous tank top, wiping away the various liquids that gleam on his mouth, chin, and even on his neck, before leaning down to gently clean her up a bit as well. The whole process makes her giggle for reasons she couldn’t have explained if her life depended on it. Smiling, he climbs back over her, hands planted next to her head so he can lean down and kiss her. His stubble is painful against her over-bitten lower lip, but she doesn’t care, his lips feel good and the faint salty taste of herself on his tongue makes her hips rock even though the chances of her orgasming again are non existent.

“Live up to the hype?” He asks, tone as unbearably smug as his expression, and yet somehow endearing.

“Shut up,” she mumbles against his mouth, laughing as soon as she gets the words out. She kisses him again, sloppy and open mouthed, feeling too strung out and full of shivering aftershocks of pleasure to care that her technique has gone to shit.

“You should come,” she declares, realizing that she can feel his erection pressed against her thigh. “You should let me…” She trailed off, not sure exactly what she had the motor skills to offer to return the favor, which seems a shame after he’d given her one of the best orgasms she could ever remember having.

“I’m good, baby,” he murmurs in response, shifting to nuzzle at her neck. “Watching you come was so fucking hot.”

“Fucking,” she said in affirmative. “Fuck me. I want you to. Fuck me right here, until you come.”

This time the noise Bull makes sounds as broken and desperate as she had felt with his mouth on her, and she’s regaining enough of her mental capacity to feel proud of herself.

“You sure? We don’t have to, I can take care of myself.”

“Fuck. Me.” she orders him firmly, pulling his horns until he lifts his head up and looks at her. “Put your cock inside me and fuck me until you can’t see straight.”

It seems like only a matter of seconds before Bull’s jeans are shoved down, a condom pulled conveniently from a back pocket (because of _course_ he had come prepared) and then she’s bent damn near in half as he pushes slowly into her, moaning the whole time. She lets out a whimper as her body spasms around him, apparently not the least deterred by the fact she’d come only minutes before. If anything else she just feels more sensitive, and still highly aroused. The height difference between them makes kissing on the mouth impossible, but with his elbows bent on either side of her head she can wrap her arms around his neck and pull herself up enough to lick and suck the skin over his collarbones. When he shifts position and sends pleasure skittering through her like lightning, she bites down hard into the flesh of his pectoral, groaning against the scarred grey skin.

Her body seems to have forgotten that multiple orgasms weren’t normally something she does, because the weight of Bull’s body, the length and girth of his cock, and the angle and strength of his thrusts have pleasure spiking in her hard and fast. It’s been a very long time since she’d come just from penetration, and she could count the times it had happened on one hand if she remembered how to count - but apparently her body is still so sensitive from her first orgasm that it’s trying to overachieve. Unlike the slow, buzzing build of the first one, this orgasm is rushing toward her at speed, making her shake and whimper as Bull slams into her whispering praise broken up by moans and growls.

“Bull!” is all she had time to choke out before her body is clenching around his cock, her second orgasm tightening all her muscles, a deep, shuddering pleasure that leaves her sobbing in reaction with her face turned into the massive curl of his bicep. That seems to be all he needs, because he slams home, gasping and then silent for a moment before she can feel him pulsing inside her, hard and hot, setting her shivering with sympathetic pleasure as he bit off guttural curses in Qunlat.

Things get fuzzy for a few minutes as they both come down, panting and shivering as the cooling night breeze flutters over their skin. The condom is tied off and set aside, Bull’s poor tank top pressed into service for cleanup again, and he manages to get himself zipped and Dust’s dress back into place all while she’s still considering whether or not she can possibly move her legs on her own ever again. Bull lays down on his back beside her, pulling her close so she’s curled against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Her whole body is pressed against the comforting heat and hardness of his body, one of her legs pulled over his thigh, one of his great arms wrapped around her to protect her from the chill. Deciding that moving is highly overrated, she snuggles in close, drifting sleepily under the twinkling rune light as the branches danced lazily above them.

In the back of her head she knows she can’t stay indefinitely, sleeping in the crook of Bull’s arm. She needs to get up, get her gear on and head home. Falling asleep before 2 am is a good way to completely fuck up her sleep patterns, and there’s no way in hell she’s spending the night. Still, all of that is far away, muffled in the soft fog of pleasure and comfort that has her stroking one hand down Bull’s chest in a lazy caress, occasionally tuning her face slightly to press a kiss against his skin.

“Stay for a while?” Bull asks, the rumble of his deep voice making her shiver as she can feel it against her.

“Yeah,” she says softly, lips brushing against his skin. “For a while.”


End file.
